Widowmaker
by LJC
Summary: When Niko misses her scheduled check-ins while working undercover on the outlaw planetoid of Blackwater, Goose is ordered to the town of Widowmaker to find out why.


The sounds of the taproom faded as Niko closed the heavy wooden door. She was immediately swallowed by the shadows, but made her way surefooted despite the dark.

Down, down, down until she reached her destination. The comm unit was still in its hiding place, untouched since she'd sent her last report. She keyed in her ident code, leaning forward so she was whispering directly into the mic.

The scrape of a boot-heel on the stone floor was her only warning. She started to turn, but the butt of the rifle smashed into the back of her head, and the darkness rose up to meet her before she could get even a glimpse of her attacker.

* * *

><p>Shane Gooseman dropped into the pilot's seat of <em>Ranger 3<em> with a groan.

He'd been tracking Chimaera for a solid week, from a ranch on Prairie to a firefight with authorities on Texarcota, only to lose her completely in the slums of Tortuna City.

Geezi was keeping an eye out for her, but she could be anywhere by now if she'd hitched a ride on a freighter. It wasn't like the Crown kept detailed passenger manifests for commercial travel the way the League did. Nearly everyone who travelled to and from Tortuna didn't _want_ to be tracked, and graft was rampant. The Rangers themselves had taken advantage of the Crown agents' laissez-faire attitudes often enough.

But nothing improved Gooseman's black mood as _Ranger 3_ cleared Tortuna's orbit. He had failed—again—to bring in a rogue Supertrooper, and that was all that the Board of Leaders would care about.

Chimaera was in the wind, Geezi was grumbling about how the Rangers owed him five hundred crowns for services rendered, and Goose was in dire need of some _serious_ rack time. Maybe he'd put in for a week-end pass. Some downtime in the tank at Longshot with Icarus and Winter would help him bury the bitterness and anger that tracking his own always brought to the fore.

"Priority one transmission from BETA, Goose," Elma said, her synthesised voice calm and soothing.

"Put it through, Elma."

Commander Walsh's face appeared onscreen, looking grimmer than usual.

"Sir, if this is about Chimaera—"

"Chimaera can wait, Shane. I've got new orders for you, effective immediately."

"Commander, I haven't showered or shaved in two days—"

"Don't—you'll fit right in on Blackwater."

"Blackwater? Why am I going to _that_ outlaw rock?"

"Ranger Hartford is on Tarkon, and Rangers Foxx and Buzzwang are overseeing an upgrade to the Kirwin defence shield. At your present co-ordinates, you're only three hours out, and it's imperative we have a Ranger on the ground ASAP."

"What's the fire?"

"Ranger Niko missed her last two check-ins."

"I thought Niko was on leave—some big archaeological shindig on Andor?"

"That was a pretext. She has been on a deep cover mission on Blackwater for the last two weeks."

"Since when is Blackwater under League jurisdiction?"

"Since humans from League worlds have been lured there with offers of legitimate employment, and then disappearing without a trace."

"Do you think it's the Queen? Doesn't seem quite her style..."

Walsh shook his head. "We were contacted by an informant on Tortuna a month ago. After FitzMaurice and his crew vacated Blackwater, Lazarus Slade moved in to fill the vacuum. On paper, he's got a mining operation."

"Mining what?" Goose's eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. "Blackwater puts the 'empty' in 'Empty Zone'."

"Exactly. Ranger Niko volunteered to go undercover, to track Slade and try and locate the missing humans. Her communications were one-way only—data packets relayed from the Andorian deep space link. No radio."

"Pardon my saying so, Commander, but she doesn't look much like a miner."

"As a new hire at a, ahem," he coughed, "drinking establishment on Blackwater."

"A barmaid." Goose couldn't keep the shock from his voice. "You sent Niko undercover _as a barmaid_?"

"Are you questioning your fellow Ranger's competence?" Walsh asked, a note of disapproval creeping into his voice. It should have cowed Goose. But he was still stuck on the mental image of Niko slinging drinks to a bar full of outlaws.

"Commander, Niko's idea of a good time is a museum opening. Not a kick-line."

"She was the best man—erm, _woman_ for the job. With her psionic abilities, she was in the perfect position to eavesdrop on Slade's gang without attracting suspicion."

"But you're worried someone caught on she was a Ranger?"

"We're just plain _worried_. Her check-ins have been regular until now, and we can't risk a full-scale operation. Not if Slade's got the Crown at his back. Blackwater may be a haven for outlaws, but no sentient being—human or otherwise—deserves to have their life-force drained to power a slaverlord. No matter how shady their past."

"Sir—is this strictly a rescue operation? Or are the missing miners still the primary objective?"

"If it's possible to complete the mission, then do so. If Ranger Niko requires medical attention, return to BETA immediately. The Series 5 team is too valuable to put at unnecessary risk—not just to BETA, but to the worlds in need of your protection."

"Understood, sir. I'll find her, Commander, and bring her home—along with solid intel on Slade's operation."

"I know you will. Walsh out."

The screen went blank, and Goose hit the engines. "Elma, prime the drives."

"Warp co-ordinates plotted, Goose."

"Engage hypershunt. Punch it, Elma."

As the stars streaked past in shades of red and black outside the interceptor's cockpit, Goose loaded the files transferred from Earth.

Name: Kathleen Alice Crenshaw  
>Age: 22<br>Height: 163 centimetres  
>Weight: 54.5 kilos<br>Eyes: green  
>Hair: black.<p>

Born on Nebraska (the planet), the warrant listed her as wanted for petty theft and minor fraud on a dozen different League worlds. The rap sheet was pretty standard, and Goose wondered if Q-ball's techs had just swapped out the image and biometrics of a real grifter.

The jobs and crimes started with simple shoplifting as a teen through a couple of misdemeanours on League worlds until she bounced from job to job, first on luxury liners and then finally saloon girl on frontier worlds like Mesa and Ozark. The date of the last warrant was only a month earlier—which made her the prefect candidate to be recruited to a watering hole completely off the grid.

He opened the 360 holo of "Kathleen". The sullen expression Niko wore was as foreign to him as the nanotech dye job that tinted her auburn hair blue-black, and tightly curled her normally straight hair to half its length. Walsh was right—there was no way Slade would connect this saloon girl with the Series 5 Rangers. Not based on the holo and rap sheet, in any case.

"Elma, playback Niko's last transmission for me, will you?"

"My pleasure, Goose."

The recording began, and Niko's face filled the screen, lit by the blue glow of some sort of comm device. The room behind her was completely in shadow, and her voice was very soft as she relayed her report.

"I've scouted the mining operation, but Slade has spy 'droids everywhere, and attack 'droids patrolling the perimeter at night. Since I've arrived, two more miners have mysteriously disappeared—Jocko Smullens, and Rikk Nivens. No-one seems to care except for Sadie. Apparently they left behind quite a bar tab. One of the other girls at the Last Dance, Narissa, has been walking out with Slade's right-hand man, Kivet. Well, right-hand bipedal Arthropod. What she sees in that guy—well, let's just say Slade's men seem to be getting the job done.

"What the job is, no-one is talking. Since I arrived, Slade's brought two heavy ore-movers to Blackwater. But according to my readings, there's no metals worth mining. I asked Sadie if there had ever been Starstones found on Blackwater, but she said the only thing she's ever found was dust, rocks, and more dust.

"Narissa is starting to get a suspicious of me hanging around her and Kivet. I've got to find a reason to get closer to Slade's operation that won't set off any red flags.

"Speaking of Narissa, my shift is about to start. So, Ranger Niko out."

The screen went blank. Goose scowled, and asked Elma to cue it up her earlier reports. She'd made one every three days since she'd arrived. The first were quick verbal sketches of the town, and the rest covered what she could learn about Slade's operation from her vantage point at the bar, using her gifts to eavesdrop on the miners.

According to her transmissions, she hadn't laid eyes on Slade himself yet—he was apparently either holed up in the mine, or off on Tortuna, trying to scrounge more recruits from among the lost and desperate.

Her reports were succinct, squarely focussed on facts and not supposition. But Goose had known her long enough to tell she was frustrated by the lack of actionable intel on Slade's operation. By the lack of Slade himself. The Lazarus Slade they'd encountered was showy and ego-centric. He didn't lurk behind the curtains like the great and powerful Oz; he took centre stage.

Elma's icon bobbed onscreen. "Approaching co-ordinates, Goose."

* * *

><p>Goose pulled on his Zanguil robes, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell. He'd been happy to strip them off when they left Tortuna City: they'd been stored in Triton's saddlebags a bit too long for his liking. Between the nanites darkening his blond hair to dark brown, and three days growth of scruff on his cheeks and jaw, he definitely <em>looked<em> the part of a Zanguil peddler. Another few days in the dusty robes, and be might well become one.

"Stealth mode, Triton. We're a little too recognisable, and if I have to wear this get-up, you had better put on a disguise, too."

Triton's silver plating darkened to gunmetal burnished bronze in the light of Blackwater's red giant of a sun, and Goose climbed into the saddle. They were a few klicks from the town, which appeared as a smudge on the horizon. Goose took a deep breath and scowled. The air on Blackwater stank of fossil fuels. Goose was used to League worlds where burning wood and coal was forbidden.

Elma had taken the ship down in one of the narrow canyons where it would be hidden from prying eyes by the scrub trees growing on either side of the chasm. It had been a tight fit, but from the top of the canyon, there wasn't so much as a glimmer of the hull's plating through the brush.

"Triton, keep your scanners peeled for any sign of Niko."

"Initiating scan now, Goose."

"Good. The sooner we find her and make sure she's OK, the better I'll feel."

"I wish she had brought Mel," Triton lamented. "She would be much easier to find. And Mel would have looked after her."

Not for the first time, Goose wondered how much the horses gossiped about their riders. He knew Triton and Voyager certainly felt that their riders would have been fodder for the Queen's psychocrypt many times over had they not had their horses.

"This was a deep cover mission, old buddy. No reason for a barmaid to be riding a top of the line robosteed."

They fell silent as they approached the outskirts of the town. A painted sign declaring it _Delamar_ was suspended between two posts, but someone had scribbled "Widowmaker" beneath it in red paint.

He'd been to frontier towns across the universe, both as a Ranger and tracking his fellow Supertroopers, and Widowmaker seemed little different from any other on Mesa, Ozark, or Prairie. One long dirt road with ramshackle buildings on either side, with a few scattered outbuildings between scrub plants and tumbleweeds.

However, Blackwater was off the main trade routes, and had been all but abandoned after FitzMaurice's gang had cleared out. Half the buildings were still boarded up and shuttered. The only real signs of life came from the blinking neon sign above the largest building on the main drag.

_The Last Dance Bar & Grille_ was spelled out in lurid pink and green. He could hear music and laughter floating out beyond its doors, while the rest of the town was silent as a tomb.

"Goose, I'm picking up Ranger Niko's implant."

"Thanks, Triton. So I guess this is the place."

As Goose tied Triton up at the electronic trough, a group of bipeds stumbled drunkenly through the doors out into the street, despite the fact that it was barely mid-day. One of them barely made it past Goose before doubling over to vomit in the street.

"Charming," Goose muttered beneath his breath, and felt for his badge beneath the heavy layers of his Zanguil robes. He still had about half his charge left, after the merry chase Chimaera had led him. Not optimal, but better than nothing.

The loud buzz of conversation dropped to a low hum as he stepped through the swinging wooden doors and heads turned to take his measure. But Zanguils weren't uncommon in outlaw towns, and voices rose again as he took a seat at the bar.

Like the town itself, the saloon was nothing new or special. Circles of scarred wood table tops balanced on wooden barrels were arranged in front of a bare stage, an upright piano tucked against its side. The bar ran along one wall, bottles and glasses neatly arranged on shelves that ran its length behind it. There was only one tap—most likely homebrew, to act as chaser to wash down the harder stuff. And like nearly every frontier saloon, the harder stuff was most likely already as watered down as it could get. But that didn't stop the locals from drinking it.

He had his eyes peeled to spot his fellow Ranger, but the two serving girls out on the floor were an avian species, and a tall thin android. They wove their way between the tables, side-stepping grasping hands, and keeping the patrons well lubricated. Two Dreen bouncers lurked against the back wall, keeping watch over the rowdy crowd.

"What's yer poison?" asked the bartender, another Dreen in a boiled leather apron. He dumped a bowl of shells onto the floor and replaced it with a fresh bowl of roasted nuts that he clearly hoped would make Goose thirsty enough to make his rump on the stool worth the establishment's while.

Like most Dreen, he looked like a walking, talking Hippo. Sometimes Goose felt like he'd had the same conversation with the same bartender dozens of times over, with only the names of the bars and the colours of the neon chandeliers changing.

"Information," Goose said, his voice low and slightly muffled by the blue scarf across his mouth and jaw. "I heard there was work to be had on Blackwater—know anything about it?"

"Since when do Zanguil slavers punch a clock?"

"My ship got hit by pirates in the Empty Zone—lost my cargo."

"What kind of cargo?"

"Not the living, breathing kind, if that's what you're thinking," he said quickly. "Modified Kiwi vegetables from a League transport. I was bound for the Sorcerer System when they got me in their tractors. Can't go back without it, so I need coin to re-supply. Rumour on Tortuna said that a being could make a quick and easy buck here, if they weren't afraid of a little hard work."

"No such thing as a quick _and_ easy buck," came a voice off to the side, and Goose turned as a humanoid woman approached.

She was tall—as tall as he was, and wearing a flamboyant red dress, low cut to show off assets that would have put Jersey Lilly to shame, a jewelled choker around her neck below a wrinkled wattle. She looked to be late middle-aged, with faded blonde hair piled high atop her head. Her skin was a pale shade of purple, and her irises were pale pink. A Zaruthian, then—one of the border worlds at the edge of the Crown Empire. They didn't tend toward travel much—not since the Crown had blasted all their spaceports and seized their technology, practically sending them back to the Stone Age.

"Sadie Hawkins," she said, offering her hand. "Welcome to the Dance."

Goose took her cool fingertips in his and tipped his hat. "Nice place you've got here."

"Ha!" She barked. "It's a dump. But it's _my_ dump, and the roof don't leak, and it's clean and paid for. Well, mostly," she amended, kicking a pile of shells across the floor with one high-heeled boot. "We don't get a lot of Zanguils around here."

"Like I was just telling Sparky here," he inclined his head toward the Dreen, "I got hit by pirates. Looking to earn enough to re-supply before I head back out."

"Long as you've got coin to spend, you're welcome to hang your hat at the Dance. Coin, mind you. We don't take company scrip—or League credits."

"I read you loud and clear, Miss Hawkins." He tossed an Imperial Crown on the bar, and the Dreen slid it off the bar and into his pocket before it had stopped spinning.

"We got beer, we got bourbon, and we got rye. And that's about all we got."

"Rye."

The glass was cloudy, but Goose's biodefences would protect him from anything in it besides the watered-down whiskey. He downed the shot, and motioned for another.

"So, what do folks do for a good time around here?"

"You're about to find out," Sadie said with a wink, as a 'droid sat down at the piano and began banging out a tune.

Goose raised an eyebrow, and moved aside for the approaching barmaid to set her empty tray on the edge of the bar. An avian with bright green skin, she sniffed haughtily while the Dreen refilled her tray with full glasses.

"She ain't such hot stuff as she thinks she is," the barmaid said, her voice dripping with disdain, and she sashayed back into the crowd, her tail feathers clearly ruffled.

"What's all that about?"

"Don't pay Rissa any mind—she's just sore because she lost her spot as my main act."

"Main act?"

The crowd began banging their mugs on the tables in time with the tune, their voices rising in cheers and whistles. It reached a crescendo as a shapely leg appeared between the moth-eaten red velvet curtains, followed by the rest of her.

"Hiring that girl was the best decision I've made in yonks," Sadie said, pride in her voice. "Katie packs the house!"

"I bet she does," Goose murmured, feeling like he'd taken a blaster shot right between the eyes.

Goose had seen Niko gussied up before—even in a dancehall girl's outfit, thanks to their first and last trip to Blackwater. But Louise's dress was practically a nun's habit compared with what she had on now as she took centre stage.

A tight red silk corset made her tiny waist seem like he could span it with a single hand. He made a point of not staring at the curves of her breasts where they rose above the black lace trim, but he had a feeling that particular image was going to haunt his dreams for weeks if not months. Fingerless black lace gloves climbed to her elbows, making her wrists seem too delicate to lift a glass, let alone a shotgun.

Her ruffled skirt didn't even fall to her silk stocking-clad knees, and was longer in the back, like a peacock's tail. He could see the garters that held the stockings up, peeking out through the lace petticoats with each swish of the taffeta as she moved. Her legs seemed to go on for miles. Her feet were encased in lace-up granny boots with wicked high heels, and a feather and jewelled ornament pinned to her elaborately styled hair topped off the ensemble.

Her own mother—stars only knew who that might be—wouldn't have recognised her. If Goose hadn't spent the two hour flight to the Empty Zone studying her last three transmissions for clues to what had happened to make her go off-grid, _he_ wouldn't have recognised her. The woman on stage bore little to no resemblance to the Ranger he'd known and fought beside for the last several years.

Goose had a split second of considering setting his wristcam to "record", imagining Doc's face when he got a load of the get-up she was wearing. But then Niko began to sing, and there was no way Goose was ever going to think of this as even the slightest bit funny ever again.

_I've looked around the country and I've seen it all_  
><em>And what I want, I'm ready to name<em>  
><em>It's big and strong and handsome and it's 6 feet tall<em>  
><em>I'm gonna file my claim<em>

The hoots and hollers of the rest of the bar almost drowned her out, but the way she dipped and swung the huge feathered boa in time with the lyrics was hypnotic. Right up there with the sway of her hips as she strutted across the stage. There was no other word for it—it was definitely "strut". Her movements were exaggerated, and designed to titillate.

Goose knew his features were slack with shock, but he couldn't help it. He'd been mentally prepared for Niko-the-barmaid. He was most definitely _not_ prepared for Niko-the-burlesque-dancer. Not in a million years.

She stepped off the rickety wooden stage, and began working the crowd. A large Abraxian made a grab for her thigh, and Goose tensed, poised to jump in. But without breaking stride, Niko twisted the big miner's wrist in a rotational lock he knew all too well from their practice bouts, and there was an audible "pop". The men around the howling miner only laughed, clearly used to this sort of behaviour.

Goose remembered what Cody Carson, deep in his virus-ridden delusion, had said about the infamous Louise: _She can step on your foot, pour you a drink, and spit in your eye without breaking stride._

And as the Abraxian cradled his injured arm against his chest, Niko neatly side-stepped around him, snagging his whiskey from the scarred wooden table as she did so. She downed the shot, wiped her red, red lips on the back of her hand, and slammed the empty glass on the bar to raucous applause.

_I got the fever, ooh, the fever_  
><em>But not for gold in the ground<em>  
><em>I want the title to something vital<em>  
><em>That I can throw my fences around<em>

He tried to appear completely nonchalant as she approached him, but a chill ran down his spine as she twined her boa around his neck and smiled saucily.

She looked right through him, not even a flicker of recognition in her khol-rimmed green eyes.

Niko was good, all right—but no-one was _that_ good. While she was still in range, he thumbed the hidden scanner built into his gauntlet, hoping the readings might give him a clue about what was really going on.

_There ain't a man alive who wouldn't trade his gold_  
><em>For what it takes to stay in the game<em>  
><em>So have your fun and spend before you get too old<em>  
><em>Who's gonna help me file my claim?<em>

She climbed back up on the stage, dropping the boa so it pooled at her feet.

_Who's gonna help me, help, help me  
>Who's gonna help me file my claim tonight...<em>

She sketched a shallow bow, ankles crossed, and what that graceful moment did to her breasts barely contained by the corset was not lost on the crowd—or him.

_She's your friend_, he reminded himself sternly. _Your partner, and a valued colleague_.

A valued colleague whose bare shoulders and delicate collarbones were doing things to him. Things that he was only barely able to keep in check being around her when she was wearing a uniform—albeit a form-fitting one—that covered her from head to toe. And that was only thanks to years of practice.

Goose glanced down at his scanner, but it was flashing "SCAN INCONCLUSIVE" at him, white letters on a green screen. He downed his second drink before heading in her direction.

She was laughing along with a table full of patrons, as she loaded up her tray with empty glasses, mugs, and bowls. She turned toward him as he approached, tossing her black curls back over her shoulder as she gave him a blatantly appraising look.

_A valued colleague who would kick you where it _hurts_, if you don't keep your eyes front, Mister._

"Quite the performance."

"Thanks, handsome." Niko still showed no sign whatsoever of recognising him. She continued weaving among the tables, forcing Goose to trail after her like a puppy. It was clearly a calculated move on her part—presenting a moving target to avoid being cornered. "I haven't seen you around her before. New in town?"

"You could say that. Though to hear Miss Sadie tell it, you're pretty new in town yourself. You seem to fit in pretty well, though."

"Not sure that's much of a compliment, but I'll pretend you meant it that way." She laughed, and dropped her empty tray off at the bar, where the bartender began refilling it with fresh drinks.

"So, what're you having?" she asked conversationally.

"A moment of your time?"

If she was just feigning indifference in order to keep from blowing her cover, he'd given her a perfect excuse to step outside with him, just for a moment. All she had to do was take the bait.

His spirits sank as her smile lost its warmth, her expression immediately becoming guarded. "Sorry—I'm not on the menu."

_This isn't protecting her cover_, he thought as she picked up the tray, and headed back toward the tables. _Something is very, very wrong._

"Wait—" he reached out to grasp her elbow and the tray went crashing to the floor.

A hush fell over the taproom. Instantly two Dreen inserted themselves between Goose and Niko, massive arms crossed.

"This fella botherin' you, Miss Katie?"

"Nothin' I can't handle, boys," she said, giving one of them a pat on the broad nose. His ears wiggled in happiness.

She turned back to Goose, and from the look on her face, he was expecting a kick to the head. But instead, she just gave him an icy glare, before tilting her head speculatively.

"Sixty," she said, a challenge in her eyes.

"Sixty what?"

"Crowns! Sadie don't take scrip, and neither do I."

"For what?"

"What do you think?" She winked, but he recognised bravado when he saw it. She was still performing for the crowd, just without the feathers and piano accompaniment.

"I think I asked the lady for a moment of her time—nothing more, nothing less."

"And when you have the crowns, I'd be more than happy to give you the time of day. Until then, I'm sure Lily would be more than happy to keep your glass full."

She motioned to the tall android barmaid, who came over with a cheerful beep and the click of motorised joints.

_So much for the supposedly irresistible Gooseman charm._

"Welcome, humanoid patron," the 'droid said as she raised her tray. "What is your preferred beverage and/or sustenance?"

Goose ignored the 'droid, eyes on Niko's retreating back. He glanced down at his wrist, where the words "SCAN COMPLETE" were steady on the tiny screen.

* * *

><p>It was full afternoon by the time Goose got back to the interceptor. Sliding into the cockpit, he thumbed the wrist-comm, switching over to data retrieval.<p>

"Elma, I'm dumping scan data for analysis into your system. Anything in there that might explain why Niko doesn't recognise me?"

Elma's pink eye icon spun a few times as the data uploaded.

"I'm accessing BETA's medical history and processing the data now, Goose."

"Good. Something's up, that's for damn sure." He tapped his fingers on his knee, impatient, though he knew Elma was processing as fast as she could.

"While Ranger Niko does appear to be suffering from concussion, there is no apparent damage to the temporo-frontal region of her brain, or functional changes related to the posterior parietal cortex."

"What's that in English?"

"There appears to be no physical cause for her amnesia, such as swelling, lesion or structural damage to the brain."

"I guess that's something. Anything else?"

"With only the physical data to go on, it is possible Ranger Niko is suffering from dissociative amnesia, which is a type of isolated retrograde amnesia that affects autobiographical and episodic memory, but not semantic memory."

"I wish Doc was here," Goose sighed. About the only thing that he really understood from the medical garbage was the word 'autobiographical'. "So she knows how to tie her shoes, but she doesn't know who she is?"

"That would appear to be the case," Elma said, and Goose thought if she could express sarcasm, right now she probably would. "Psychogenic amnesia is most likely the result of her series 5 implant being damaged when she sustained the head injury."

Goose thought back to the assault on the Black Hole Gang's base at Entropy's Edge and his subsequent crash on Ozark. His own implant had gone haywire, his biodefences out of control. Annie had filled him in on his actions while his implant had been damaged, but all of it had been a blur, even after Doc's programmes had done a patch job on him.

"Great—so we still don't know what Slade's up to, or what happened to the missing humanoids. Now we _also_ have no idea what happened to Niko. I wish Doc was here—he's better at mysteries. I'm better at punching things."

"I'm sorry I can't be of further assistance, Goose."

"It's OK, Elma. Not your fault. And anyway..." Goose rubbed his chin with one gloved hand, "I think I have an idea."

* * *

><p>The Last Dance didn't close until the wee hours of the morning. Goose had broken into one of the boarded up buildings next door, and waited for the last miner to come stumbling drunkenly out of the saloon. An hour later, as the sun began lightening the sky in the East, the neon sign clicked off.<p>

That was Goose's cue. With Triton standing watch from across the street, he leapt from the roof of his current squat to the roof of the Dance. Landing light as a cat, he used his hand-held to scan for human life-forms. Soundless, he dropped down to the ledge of a window at the rear of the building, where tattered white curtains fluttered in the breeze. He crouched on the ledge, one hand gripping the exterior wall, and carefully eased the sash the rest of the way up.

Blackwater had no moons, but there was just enough pre-dawn light for Goose to make out the still form of the woman beneath a threadbare quilt, her dark curls spread across the pillow.

Goose dropped to the floor, and was almost close enough to touch her shoulder when Niko bolted straight up in bed and he heard the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked. It was a girly little gun. Not even a blaster—an old-fashioned pearl handled Derringer .45 that was probably a museum piece.

She aimed the pistol squarely at his chest. "You come any closer, and I'll shoot."

"Niko, it's me. It's Shane." He tugged down the scarf that had kept his face hidden and held both hands up to show he had no weapon.

"Shane who?" The gun didn't waver, but she reached across to click on the small light beside the bed. It cast a warm glow over the room, making it seem quaint rather than spare and empty, and cast deep shadows on the walls.

"Gooseman. And believe it or not, I'm here to rescue you." He tried to pitch his voice low so as not to carry to any of the other rooms on that floor.

"Rescue me from what?" She raised a brow. "_Other_ strange men breaking into my room in the middle of the night?"

He took a half-step closer, despite the muzzle of the little gun pressed up against his shoulder, holding out his hand, palm up. "Look, just use your—"

The sound of the shot was partially muffled by his clothing, but the pain as the .45 bullet tore through the muscles and tendons of his shoulder was real enough, rocking him back on his heels for a split second. Grabbing her wrist with his right hand, he twisted and the little gun went skittering across the wood floor.

The sound of the shot was loud enough that chances were somebody was going to come crashing through her door, assuming gunshots weren't the norm in Widowmaker. Either way, Goose was all too aware that the clock was ticking.

She sucked in a breath to scream, and Goose slapped his left hand over her mouth, grimacing at the pain. She let loose a litany of curses barely muffled by his hand that would have shocked the other Rangers to their core if they'd heard her. When that had no effect, she ground her teeth down on his hand, and he hissed in pain, but didn't let go. Hot red blood soaked the front and back of his Zanguil robes. She thrashed and kicked, bucking her hips to try and dump him onto the floor. He held on grimly and kneeling on her legs to keep her pinned, fumbled for his badge with his other hand.

As his biodefences kicked in, a crackle of gold playing over his left arm as torn and abraded flesh knit together, and when the glow faded there wasn't even a scar—just new, pink skin. Niko's struggles ceased, her eyes so wide beneath his now-healed hand that he could see the whites showing around blue-green irises. She looked absolutely terrified. Something twisted in his gut, but he reminded himself that any sane person would probably have had the same reaction.

(But then, no-one had ever accused the Series 5 Rangers of being all that sane.)

"I'm going to take my hand away now. But if you scream, it goes right back."

She nodded and he removed his hand from her mouth. There was a smear of blood on her lip, from where she'd broken the skin. As he shifted his weight off her legs, she scooted back against the headboard, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand absently.

"How did you... " Her hand twitched toward the blood-soaked, torn cloth of his shirt, and then she pulled it back. "What are you?"

_Supertrooper_ caught in his throat. "Galaxy Ranger."

"Yeah?" She snorted. "And I'm the Queen of the Crown."

"My name is Shane Gooseman," he repeated, "and I'm a Series 5 Ranger. And so are you."

"Sure I am." She tossed her hair. "Why, I musta left my gun and badge in my other suit."

"As a matter of fact, that's exactly what happened." He flipped up his wrist comm, and held it out so she could see the playback of her last check-in to BETA.

She watched the entire report, eyes narrowed, her mouth a thin line. When it finished playing, Goose flipped the screen back down, and watched her expectantly.

"It's a trick," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Some fancy Tri-D trick, that's all. You're trying to trick me."

"Think about it. You grew up on Fort Wyndham, right? Then what colour were the walls in your room? What did the grass smell like, after it rained? What was father's name? Who was your first kiss?"

As he fired off question after question, she put her hands over her ears, shaking her head. "Stop—stop it."

He grasped her wrists and pulled her hands down into her lap.

"You don't know those things because you're not Kate Crenshaw," he said, gently but firmly, hoping like hell he wasn't making the situation worse. "You are Ranger Niko—a member of the Series 5 team. Kate Crenshaw doesn't exist—she's just a legend. A cover for a mission."

She went pale, but he couldn't tell if it was with anger, or fear. Anger he could deal with. Anger was an old, familiar friend. But he wasn't used to seeing Niko afraid. Wary, sure. Even shocked. But not flat out terrified.

"Dammit, if you had your badge, I could prove it to you. You'd know I was telling you the truth." He started pulling drawers open, feeling for the familiar shape of her badge among the clothes and mementoes. "It's got to be here someplace. Where would you have hidden something you didn't want anyone else to find?"

"I don't know!" she snapped, colour finally returning to her cheeks as she jumped up and tried to pull him away from the chest of drawers. "What's so all-fire important about a tin star?"

"Your badge activates your implant."

"My what?" Her brows knit together in confusion. He might as well have been speaking a whole other language. But for the moment at least, curiosity seemed to be slowly edging out fear.

"We both have implants—in here." He tapped his temple. "They amplify certain... talents."

Her green eyes lit up. "You mean I can heal, like you just did?"

He shook his head. "You have different abilities—psychic abilities that you still have, even without your implant. You can touch something or someone, and know everything about them." He took her hand in his. "You can see for yourself if I'm telling the truth."

She looked down at her palm in his, sceptical. "Nothing's happening."

He sighed. "Concentrate."

"I _am_ concentrating," she glared at him, "and I'm telling you, whatever magical powers you think I have, I don't know how to make them work."

"OK. I have an idea. Just... try to trust me? Can you do that?"

"I trust you about as far as I can throw you, mister," she grumbled, frowning. "Fine. Do your magic trick, Ranger."

He laced his fingers through hers, and with his other hand he touched his badge again, and just as he had on the Deltoid rock, he tried to project images of her—images of _them_—into her mind. Tiny dots of starlight flowed from him to her, and she gasped as her green eyes took on a violet cast.

_Niko triggering his badge when he was hit by Crown troopers on Tortuna. Fighting their way to the top of the General's tower, through level after level of his ridiculous tests. The way her eyes lit up as she talked about the art exhibits on BETA Space Station, even as he grumbled about having to babysit a bunch of paintings and sculptures. Catching him and Daisy O'Mega in a forcefield, when MaCross had tried to kill them both—and taking a blaster shot in the back in the process._

He did his best to keep the memories limited to them on the job, But he couldn't help other memories creeping in on the sides, slipping through the cracks.

_The touch of her hand on his, when they thought their Crown transport only had five minutes of breathable air—and what that touch meant to them both. Her floating unconscious, her hair fanning out around her, when the Queen used Mindnet to trigger her implant in the zero-G gymnasium. His jolt of horror when one of the Bovo-15 steers had slammed into Mel's side, sending her flying into the path of the stampede. _

_How she'd protected him from the Scarecrow on Granna, despite the fact that she could barely stand without falling over. How she collapsed against him, worn out but relieved that _he_ was safe. _

_The way she'd said his name—voice choked with disbelief and joy—and her so, so brief embrace, when the being that had merged with SAM on Texton moon had materialised him on the bridge of Ranger 1. _

_The way she'd blushed, as they'd broken Tarkon's orbit and he'd told her he preferred brunettes. How amazed he always was that she was able to take on the Queen one-on-one without batting an eye, but got flustered any time he acknowledged the thing between them that they'd never dared putting into words. _

Cups of coffee in the canteen, diplomatic escort missions, sparring matches in the gymnasium, firefights on outlaw worlds, shared evenings grumbling about paperwork—over and over, he poured all his memories of the last three years through the tenuous link. He had no clue how much of it was getting through. Something clearly was, from the way she began breathing heavily, her eyes completely unfocussed, pupils blown so wide there was just a halo of purple around black.

"Stop—I can't. I can't." She broke away from him, putting as much physical distance between them as she could in the attic room, and gulped in air like she'd been drowning. "It's too much."

She sagged against the wall, hands clutching her head. She blinked again, and the violet light in her eyes faded away.

"It was the only way," he said softly. "Do you believe me, now?"

She wrapped her arms around herself as if she were cold. Goose took a shawl that was hanging off the end of the bedpost, and she flinched away from him, skittish as a spooked horse.

"How do I know you're not the one who's psychic—that you're not messing with my head?" she asked as she snatched the shawl from his fingers and wrapped it around herself.

"Lady, at some point, you've got to decide if you trust me or not. What did you feel, just now? What does your gut tell you?"

Before she could answer, the door flew open, and Sadie strode in. Her hair was up in curlers and she was wearing a quilted pink dressing gown. But Goose was more worried about the pulse rifle she held in both hands.

"What in the name of the ten freezing hells is going on in here?" She took in the scene before her—Goose, the front of his Zanguil robes wet with blood, still sitting on the edge of the bed, and Niko clear across the room.

She raised the rifle, the site trained on Goose's head. "Katie—you alright? I thought I heard a gunshot."

Goose's eyes flicked back and forth between the rifle and Niko.

"Everything's fine, Miss Sadie. This is Shane—"

"—Crenshaw. Shane Crenshaw," Goose filled in smoothly. "I'm Kate's—"

"Husband," Niko blurted out, and Goose tried to keep his expression neutral. But this was a wrinkle he hadn't been expecting.

"You never mentioned having no husband," Sadie said, the barrel of the gun still held up.

"We got separated back on Prairie," Goose supplied. "The locals called in the law, and we split up when we realised we were blown. I've been looking for her ever since."

"This true, Kate?"

There were a few long seconds where Niko just stood there, chewing on her bottom lip. Goose tensed, trying to gauge whether or not he could disarm Sadie before she could get a shot off.

"Yes, ma'am," Niko finally said, pushing herself away from the wall and sitting down next to him. He carefully draped an arm around her shoulder as she curled up against his side like a cat. "Shane here tracked me to Tortuna City, and when he found out I'd taken a freighter to Blackwater, headed after me."

Sadie looked back and forth between them, and finally dropped the gun to point it at the floor. "Damnation, girl. Why didn't you say so before?"

"I just didn't recognise him, all done up like a Zanguil. Gave me a fright, that's all."

Sadie's keen eyes were on the bloody clothes, and Goose remained poised to fight their way out of there if they had to. But finally the ageing dancehall proprietor rolled her eyes theatrically.

"Next time you two have a lover's spat, keep it down, will ya? Some of us have jobs to do in the morning."

Sadie stormed out, slamming the door behind her. There was a moment where Goose listened to her retreating footsteps, before turning to Niko.

"Husband?" Goose said, raising a brow.

"What? You were gonna say brother?"

"What's so crazy about that?"

"I don't think she would have bought it. And after you... showed me what you showed me, I wouldn't have, either." She batted her eyes. "Lessin' we was one of them families where cousins marry, if you take my meaning."

"Cool your jets, 'Katie'. We're friends. _Just_ friends."

"Then this Niko of yours must be a few cards short of a full deck if she let a big, strong, handsome cowboy like you slip away."

He chose to ignore that, concentrating instead on the mystery of how and why her memory was impaired. "You have a concussion. What happened?"

"It was about a week back. Miss Sadie said I took a tumble down the stairs to the root cellar, that's all."

"Sadie said? You don't remember?"

She shook her head. "I woke up in my bed with a lump the size of a goose egg on the back of my skull. Rissa said I cracked my fool head on the floor."

"Your cover couldn't have been blown—that's something, at least."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because if anyone on this rock knew you were a Ranger, you wouldn't have woken up," he said wryly, and her eyes widened for a moment before she swallowed. "Since then, has anyone in town been acting strangely toward you? Following you when you leave the bar, or asking strange questions?"

"You mean _besides_ you?" She shook her head. "Nope. It's been same-old, same-old. Rissa's been fit to be tied, though, ever since her sweetheart disappeared."

"When?"

"About three days ago. He was supposed to pick her up for her half-day, but never showed."

"Any more miners disappearing?"

"Not since Kivet."

"We need to get into that mine."

"Easier said than done. Mr Slade's got it locked up tight. Only them that works in the mine are cleared to go through the gates. Anybody else, the 'droids take care of 'em. And it ain't a pretty sight."

"Okay. So we've got two mysteries to solve. What happened to you, and what's happening in that mine."

"Why do you care so much about a bunch of wanted outlaws going missing?"

"Personally, I'd be fine and dandy with every miscreant on this rock dropped off the face of the universe—but BETA cares. Whatever Slade's up to, it can't be good. It never is. And if we have a chance to throw a wrench into whatever his latest plan is, we're gonna take it."

"What do you mean _we_, Cowboy?"

"I promised Walsh I'd bring you back to Earth safe and sound. Now that I've found you, I'm not letting you out of my sight. "

"Who's Walsh? My Sugar Daddy?"

"Commanding officer."

"And if I say I'm not going anywhere with you?"

"Then I'll hog-tie you, throw you over my shoulder, and lock you in my interceptor."

She scowled, and then shook her head. "What the hell—I'm game."

"Don't swear," he muttered, and she only laughed.

"What, your Niko never cursed a blue streak?"

"_My_ Niko's not much for foul language."

"She sounds like a real stick-in-the-mud."

"Get dressed, we're leaving."

She looked for a minute like she was going to protest leaving right that minute—he had interrupted her night's sleep, after all. Plus he'd only grabbed an hour's cat-nap on the floor of the abandoned store, waiting for the bar to shutter its windows.

But then she bounced off the bed and dug a bundle of clothes out of the wardrobe. Slinging them over her arm, she looked at him expectantly.

He just stared at her, waiting.

"You gonna turn you back? Or do you wanna enjoy the show? Makes no difference to me," she added, winking.

Fighting the sudden rush of blood to his face, he heel-turned so he was facing the wall.

"I still can't believe you shot me," he said, watching her shadow as she pulled the night-shirt off over her head. It sailed across the room to land in a heap of white cotton next to his right foot. Swallowing thickly, he stared at the floor, listening to the rustle of skirts and creak of leather as she tugged on her ankle boots.

"I told you I was gonna shoot you," she pointed out.

"Yeah—but you actually _shot_ me," he called back over his shoulder. She only laughed.

"You can turn around now. I'm as decent as I'm ever gonna be."

She was pinning her long dark hair up in a messy bun as he turned. And to be fair, she was dressed. And it was better than what she'd been wearing on-stage, but only slightly. The neckline of the deep purple dress plunged as low as modesty would allow, and the cap sleeves were there more for effect than to cover anything up. The dress had a wide black cincher around her waist that laced at the front, but at least the tiered, lace-trimmed skirt actually reached her ankles this time. Unfortunately, there was no way anyone wasn't gonna stare.

"Don't you have anything less..." He gestured with one hand at the outfit.

"What? Any less _what_?" She crossed her arms, which unfortunately did absolutely nothing to ameliorate the situation. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"_Conspicuous_," he growled through clenched teeth.

She just cocked her head and smiled, lifting the skimpy dancehall costume she'd worn when he first saw her off the back of the chair and swinging it from side to side. "Just this."

"Fine. But if you can't run in that thing," he gestured to the layers of skirt and petticoats, "I'm cutting the skirt off."

"Ooooh, I get it. You're a leg man." She lifted the skirt to display one shapely ankle.

"Knock it off."

"Make me," she teased him.

"I had no idea you could be such a—"

"What?"

"_Brat_."

Climbing back out onto the window ledge, he put two fingers to his lips and gave a low whistle. Below, Triton moved into position, a shadow against shadows.

"I'll go first."

"Go where?"

He pointed to where his horse patiently waited, barely visible in the grey light of dawn.

"Don't worry—I'll catch you."

She shook her head. "You're crazy."

"I get that a lot."

"You got somethin' against using the front door like a normal person?"

"Someone may be watching. C'mon—unless you're chicken?" he asked with a smirk.

"I break my fool head with this stunt, Sadie'll make _you_ entertain the miners."

She gave his shoulder a shove as she hooked one leg over the sill. Looking down, she gulped. "Hope you can carry a tune, Cowboy."

Goose dropped from the window down to Triton's back, and hooked his feet into the stirrups. He gestured for her to follow, impatiently. She closed her eyes briefly, and took a deep breath through her nose before pushing off from the ledge.

Goose caught her around the waist, her skirts tangling around them both, and she let out a short whoop of a laugh.

"Shhhh," he reminded her, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. But her eyes were laughing above her fingers.

Gathering the reins in one hand, he swung Niko around so they were riding double with her in front of him, her back pressed against his chest.

Goose pressed his heels against Triton's sides, and they leapt forward. Niko gasped and buried her fingers in Triton's synthetic mane.

"This horse is something else!"

"Thank you, Ranger Niko," Triton said, his face-plate lighting up with each word. "I do have a model 6 racing chassis, and fully-optimised personality matrix."

"Holy—it talks!"

"Of course I do." Triton's synthesised voice took on a tone of indignation.

"She didn't mean anything by it, Triton," Goose said, reaching around Niko to pat Triton's neck.

"Where we headed, anyway?"

"My ship—I want Elma to check you out. And I wouldn't mind getting out of this damned Zanguil get-up."

"I admit—I'm curious to see what you're hiding under those robes, _husband_."

"I told you to knock that off."

She just laughed, and leaned back against his chest. "Anyone ever tell you, get riled too easy?"

"Anyone ever tell you to keep your hands to yourself?" he muttered as he casually removed her hand from his thigh.

* * *

><p>Niko whistled lowly as she took in the sight ofthe P-38 interceptor, her hull gleaming beneath the canopy of scrub trees.<p>

"You BETA boys don't mess around when it comes to tech, do you? This pretty, pretty girl would fetch quite a price on the black market."

"Not for sale," he muttered, palming the hatch.

"Everything's for sale. You just gotta name the right price."

A week with Sadie and her crowd, and Niko was talking like an actual Zanguil slaver. He found it much more disturbing than her constant flirting and wandering hands.

"Stay put." Goose scowled, and plunked her down on the jump seat. "Elma, bring up the topographical map of the area."

"Yes, Goose."

Niko stiffened, looking around for the source of Elma's disembodied voice.

"Relax, it's just the on-board."

"I thought maybe you were hiding a sweetheart in here."

"I don't have a—never mind."

"You telling me a big, bad Ranger like you doesn't have a sweetheart? Or are you one of them rascals and rogues who has a different girl in every spaceport?"

He scowled, but she laughed gaily at his expense.

"You do, don't you! I bet your leave all the girls crying, when you take off back into the stars."

That hit just a little too close to home, as he thought about Annie on her ranch on Ozark, and her lips soft on his cheek more than once. He'd never made any promises to Annie, but every time he left her, it felt like he was breaking one.

Banishing Annie Oh and things that could never be from his thoughts, he concentrated on the topographical map of the valley. "Elma, can you highlight Slade's mine?"

On the screen set into the wall, a map of the terrain rotated. An oval of orange appeared, zooming in until the mining settlement filled the entire screen.

"Elma, what do sensors tell you?"

"The maximum depth appears to be no more than three kilometres at its deepest point. However, my sensors cannot get a clear read-out."

"Are they damaged?"

"There appears to be some kind of massive energy flux beneath the site. It's interfering with my scanners."

"Don't sweat it, Elma. I'm going to scout the area and get scans closer to the source."

His black duty uniform was packed in the storage locker. Niko whistled as Goose began stripping off the Zanguil robes, still stiff with blood, but he tried to ignore her. That proved impossibly as she laid her hand on his back. He half-turned to see her eyes wide, all the colour drained from her cheeks.

"There ain't even a scar. I know I shot you—I saw it. But now there ain't even a mark on you."

"Better living through biodefences," he said curtly, and pulled the uniform shirt over his head. He undid the heavy sash of the Zanguil trousers, and then paused.

"Do you mind?"

Niko only raised a brow, making no move to turn her back. Scowling, he stripped off the rest of the Zanguil robes, and pulled on his uniform as quickly as he could.

"Enjoy the show?" he asked as he tied his scarf around his neck, and folded down the second jump seat and sat down so he could tug his boots back on.

"Under all that Zanguil kit, you're a fine figure of a man, Gooseman."

His surname sounded foreign on her lips.

"My friends call me Goose."

"What kind of a name is 'Goose' for a grown man?"

"Only one I got." He buckled on his gun belt, and checked to make sure his badge was pinned securely under the bib front of his shirt.

He touched his badge, to check his charge. It was dangerously low, thanks to that morning's unexpected gunshot wound. Not for the first time he wished their interceptors were equipped for remote charging of their implants. He hated the idea of taking on Slade without a full charge. Especially with no backup.

And he was hating to admit it, but "Kate" was no substitute for having Niko at his side. He had no idea if he could trust her to have his back in a fight. He had no idea if he could trust her, _period_.

"Elma, can you deactivate Niko's implant?"

"I'm sorry, Goose. That is beyond my current capabilities."

"Well, it was worth a shot. How is she, otherwise? Fit for light duty?"

"I'm right here, you know," Niko groused.

"According to my medical scanners, she is in good physical health. Ranger Niko, have you been suffering any ill-effects from your concussion? Headaches, nausea, blurred vision?"

"Your ship is talking to me."

"Yes, she is. Now, answer the nice computer."

"Ah... hi," she said to the ceiling nervously. "I had a sore head for a few days, but been fit as a fiddle ever since."

"I'm glad to hear it, Ranger Niko."

Niko scowled at the screen where Elma's icon rotated onscreen. "That was weird."

Goose shrugged. "You get used to it."

"So, you taking me with you?"

"Like I said before—I'm not letting you outta my sight."

* * *

><p>Goose peered through the binoculars, and Niko nudged him. He handed them to her so she could see—out of habit more than anything else. They were half a klick from the mine, on the ridge for the best vantage point. The sun was high, and the day was heating up. Goose had filled their canteens before they left the hidden interceptor, but it was going to be a long day. Literally—Blackwater's orbit meant their solar day was about four hours longer than Earth's, and since it was summer, most of that was daytime. In Goose's experience, it was a lot easier to be sneaky at night.<p>

Slade's mining operation was visible below—a sprawl of outbuildings and tents circled around the entrance cut into the side of the hill. Tracks had been laid down leading from the depths of the mine, cutting a straight line across the site to the landing pad dug two storeys down in Blackwater's barren ground.

Six ore-cars ten meters long and three meters wide ran over the tracks, where they were dumped into the hold of one of the two haulers. Humanoids and 'droids tipped the ore cars over the gaping holds, where the dirt and rock disappeared into the darkness.

"They work in three shifts, all day and all night," Niko said as a group of miners, their faces streaked with soot and dust, trooped out the entrance just as another dozen men in clean work clothes disappeared into the narrow opening.

"What could be down there that's worth an operation this big?" Goose wondered aloud. "Do the miners have any idea what they're digging for?"

She shrugged. "Kivet said it was something valuable—but it weren't starstones, gold or iron. Not that he knew. The men were paid enough that they didn't ask questions."

"Even after miners started disappearing?"

"Crowns buy a lot of silence."

"What about loyalty?"

"No man making three times the going wage for his sweat is going to bite the hand that feeds him."

"Maybe," Goose mused, and got up, brushing dust from his clothes. He offered Niko a hand up, but she scrambled to her feet herself. Her purple dress was only a little worse for wear, but she didn't seem to care as she quickened her pace.

"Come on, then," she said. "That hold's almost full—they'll be taking off, soon. And we'll be sitting ducks for their scanners to spot, once they do."

They reached Triton just as the hauler pulled away from the surface, engines screaming overhead as it sent up clouds of dust. But instead of rising up towards the stratosphere, it veered South, toward the empty badlands.

Niko climbed up behind him this time, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly and kicking at Triton's sides with her bootheels.

"Well? Let's go!"

Goose chuckled as he urged Triton on, and the robosteed raced across Blackwater in the darkened shadow of the hauler along the rocky canyon floor. Goose only reined the horse in when the hauler dipped down into a deep fissure.

From the ridge, Goose and Niko watched as the bay doors to the hold opened, dumping thousands of tonnes of rock and dirt to the canyon floor below. From the size of the piles at the bottom, it wasn't the first time.

"Why bring all these people here to dig out all this rock, if they're just dumping it?" Niko asked, confused. "Not taking it off world to process at all, but just... throwing it away?"

Goose pulled out his handheld again, and stared at the readings. There was something familiar about them, but he was still too far away to get a solid scan.

"Triton, let's head down to that clearing," he pointed to a small outcropping of scrub trees. "I think that's the only cover for miles."

* * *

><p>Niko fished around in Triton's saddlebags, and pulled out a standard issue field blanket and a handful of ration bars. She shook the shiny foil blanket out, and spread it on the ground beneath the spindly tree.<p>

"There. Perfect for a picnic."

"Ration bars aren't much of a picnic lunch."

"Doesn't matter—all anyone's gonna see is two lovebirds out enjoying the day. Not—" she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "two Rangers bent on justice."

"This isn't a game," Goose reminded her as he unwrapped a ration bar.

"Doesn't mean we can't enjoy ourselves. Or is that against the rules?"

"My rules." He unwrapped one of the ration bars, grimicing at the texture. But food was food, and he hadn't eaten in too long.

"I just can't figure you out," she said, shaking her head. For a split second he was back in the Captain's quarters on the _Cheyenne_, Daisy O'Mega's arms around him as they danced. He pushed that memory away as quickly as it surfaced, but Niko's eyes narrowed.

"Who's Daisy?"

He swallowed with difficulty. "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to read people's minds without asking first?"

She shook her head. "So who is she?"

"Nobody. Nobody you need to worry about, anyway."

Handing her the half-eaten ration bar, Goose took out his handheld and cranked up the sensors as high as they would go.

"The closer we get to the mine, the more my readings don't make sense."

Niko looked like she was annoyed at the abrupt change in subject, but let it go as she leaned forward to peer at the screen of his handheld.

"Maybe this isn't about digging anything out—maybe it's about digging something _up_?"

"That's what I'm afraid of. I've only seen readouts like this once before. Ot wasn't good then, and it's not good now."

A shadow passed overhead, and Goose narrowed his eyes. "Spy 'droids."

A half dozen of them were approaching the clearing. He recognised the design—Crown tech, probably from the black market.

"Relax, Cowboy! We're just a working girl and her beau, out for a stroll on her half-day off." She pulled the pins from her hair, shaking out the dark curls so they fell around her neck and shoulders.

She knelt down next to him on the blanket, and in a flurry of skirts, straddled his hips. He dropped the scanner as his hands fell automatically to her waist, despite his scowl.

"What are you _doing_?"

"What's it look like? Getting comfy." She shimmied a little, and Goose gritted his teeth.

She only laughed at his discomfort, and Goose was reminded yet again that while she may look like Niko, and sound like Niko, "Kate" was definitely not his fellow Ranger. Or, as Doc would put it, "Kate" was pure, unfiltered id, with no pesky super-ego to get in the way of her going after what she wanted.

Which would be fine and dandy, if it weren't for the fact that under all that aggressive flirting was his friend Niko. Niko, who blushed at the drop of a hat at even slightly off-colour jokes, and preferred digging up ancient pottery shards with a dozen other archaeologists to intergalactic clubbing.

Niko was poised, elegant, and above all, _controlled_. "Katie", on the other hand, didn't seem to know the meaning of the word.

"What's the matter, Shane Gooseman?" She draped her arms around his neck. "Ain't you never held a girl in your big, manly arms before?"

His lips twitched. "Plenty."

"Then act like you're having a good time, you big galoot, and not like we're casin' the joint."

Two of the 'droids broke off from the pack, and swooped under the branches of the tree he was leaning against, to get a better look.

She yelped in surprise as, locking his arm around her waist, he rolled them over so her back was on the soft dry grass, and the afternoon sun was warm on his back.

"This what you had in mind?"

Goose heard the faint _whir-click_ of the 'droid snapping images with its built-in camera, no doubt trying to get close enough to start running facial recognition. Which was the one thing they couldn't afford while they were stranded with no back-up.

He had a split second of _this is a bad, bad plan_ before instincts even stronger than his Supertrooper training kicked in.

"It's a st—"

The rest of her words were swallowed up by his mouth on hers as the 'droid circled their location. The brim of Goose's hat obscured their faces, the her glossy lakc curls doing the rest of the job as she opened her mouth beneath his, giving just as good as she got.

Goose was intent on the 'droid circling above them, but that didn't mean he wasn't hyper-aware of the woman in his arms.

How many times had he imagined touching her? Pulling her into his arms and seeing how they would fit together? _Showing_ her exactly how much she meant to him? How much he wanted her, needed her, treasured her? For three years, he'd reined in his desires, adopting a "look but don't touch" policy that kept him from succumbing to temptation. But beneath Blackwater's orange sky, surrounded by nothing but bare scrub trees and the humming of insects and light-years away from BETA and the Board of Leaders, giving into temptation was all too easy.

For just that moment, he was lost in the feel of her body pressed up against his, and the scent of her hair.

Which was why he had to stop now, before his baser nature completely took over. He pulled back reluctantly, and whispered with his mouth against her ear, "I think they're gone."

He started to sit back up, but her arms locked around his neck, nails digging into his shoulder blades through his shirt.

"Better safe than sorry," she breathed against his mouth.

"We're on the job," he reminded her.

She rolled her hips again, and this time he _did_ growl. "The spirit may not be willing, but I'd say the rest of you sure as hell ain't weak."

He kept forgetting that while she had all of Niko's gifts, right now she had none of her precisely honed control. Though it wasn't as if she needed to be psychic, to see how she was affecting him.

Goose gently disentangled himself from her embrace, loosely gripping her wrists in his hands as he scooted backwards to put some much-needed distance between them. Maybe it was the coward's way out, but he couldn't think straight with the length of her body pressed up against his. And from the way she was looking up at him, she knew it, too.

"Suit yourself—but you don't know what you're missing."

"Neither do you," he reminded her, giving her a hand up. She busied herself with brushing dried grass off her skirt, but the tips of her ears were pink.

_Score one for me_, Goose thought, struggling to keep his thoughts off his face. _Finally._

* * *

><p>"I thought we were going down to the mine," Niko said as Goose turned Triton back towards the canyon. "Why aren't we going down to the mine?"<p>

"Because we're running on less than three hours of sleep, and not a lot of intel. And won't Sadie be missing you by now?"

"It's my half-day," she reminded him. "I don't go on shift 'til sundown."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I could use a little shut-eye. Plus it'll take Elma a while to sift through the sensor data."

"I thought you Ranger types were all gung-ho. No guts, no glory, and all that?"

"Sure—when we're in the thick of it. But going in blind? That's a disaster waiting to happen."

She was quiet the rest of the ride back to the ship, and didn't say a word as he started the upload from his handheld, and then dug two bedrolls out of the hold.

With Triton and Elma both on watch, and with orders to wake them in three hours if they didn't wake on their own, Goose was almost asleep when Niko touched his shoulder.

He rolled over onto his side, facing her. "Yeah?"

He was prepared for almost anything at this point. Except, apparently, her face, pale beneath her dyed hair, green eyes clouded with worry.

"What's she like? This Ranger you say I am?"

"She's... Niko." He shrugged. "Tough as titanium nails when she's gotta be. Great lady to have at your back in any kind of fight."

"So... she can throw a punch? Seriously, that's it?"

"I wasn't finished." Talking about Niko when she was right there next to him was odd, but in a way, it made it easier. He rolled back over onto his back, and stared at the deck-plates above them as if they were the stars. "Gentle, kind—too kind for her own good, sometimes. She's got a steak of compassion about a mile wide. Especially for creaky old smugglers like Wildfire Carson, or prospectors like Roy MacIntyre. Those fellas would just about lay down their lives for her—and if push came to shove, so would I. She's saved my bacon more times than I can count."

"Hard to picture. A big strong man like you, needing a girl to bail you outta trouble."

"Believe it. We're a team—we have each other's backs. And there's nobody else I'd want to fight beside. And not just because those psionics of hers pack a wallop, and she's got a mean right hook. I mean... me and her, we're different. The kind of different that has people usually giving us a pretty wide berth. Not all folks are as accepting of people who can read minds. But you'd never know it, from all the friends she's made all over the League. She just... knows how to talk to people. They take to her. Not like me." He laughed. "Nah, I definitely don't have her people skills."

"I dunno. You seem to talk to me OK."

He turned his head back to the side to see her smiling fondly at him. "I keep forgetting you're not her."

Her smile faded. "So, who're her people? You ever meet 'em?"

"You ask a lotta questions."

"That a crime? You gonna arrest me? Cos I can think of a whole lot of things we can do with those handcuffs of yours that would be a lot more fun."

"Lady, you got exactly two speeds—not fast enough, and _too_ fast. If you take my meaning."

She tossed her hair, and winked. "Well, you're the one who keeps tellin' me I'm not who I think I am. So if I'm not Katie Crenshaw, how else am I gonna find out who I really am?"

Goose sighed, and scrubbed his hands over his face. She was right, of course. But it felt almost like an invasion of privacy, sharing stories and memories, even if technically Niko was the one asking.

"She grew up on some secret planet full of psychics, where they taught her how to use her gifts," he finally said, and Niko leaned closer, lapping up the words like water on a hot afternoon. "Top of her class, to hear her tell it. She's real smart, too. Crazy about archaeology, and she's been all over the universe on digs."

"If she's so into digging up old stuff, how come she's a Ranger and not some university professor someplace?"

"Way I heard it, Niko volunteered to join BETA. Her mentor teleported her right into the middle of BETA Mountain. The security forces went _ballistic_. Wish I coulda seen it." The mental image of Senator Whiner completely losing it over the breach made him smile.

"Doesn't sound like she much of a childhood, doing nothing but training with some teacher the whole time."

"I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I didn't have a childhood either." He shrugged. "I was genetically engineered. BETA's scientists weren't interested in raising kids—with the Queen of the Crown gobbling up planets in the Empty Zone, they needed soldiers, and they needed 'em fast. By the time I was nine, I had the mind and body of an 18 year old human."

Her eyes were round as saucers. "I thought maybe you just meant you were a foster kid, or an orphan. Not... not never having been a kid at all."

"I dunno—didn't seem so bad to me, at the time. It was all I knew. I had Max, and Negata and Walsh. They weren't family—but they were close enough. It was more than the others had."

"The others?"

"The first generation Supertroopers were all volunteers—adults when they entered the programme. I was part of the phase two pilot programme—fully engineered and born in a lab. Negata and Max thought it would make me more stable." He laughed. "Not so sure how well that turned out."

"Who's Max?"

"Dr Max Sawyer— closest thing I ever had to a father. He as much as raised me. And believe me, it wasn't easy."

"Where's he now? You father, I mean."

"Dead," Goose said quietly.

Niko's eyes softened with compassion. "I'm sorry."

"People die," he said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "I hadn't seen him, not for years. He was removed from the programme when I was only a year or two into my training at Wolf Den. Not long after, the project was dismantled."

"Dismantled? How do you dismantle _people_?"

"Unfortunately, by screwing them up with experimental drugs even more than they already were. And trust me—some of them were pretty messed up even before they were trained to be the most elite soldiers in the known galaxy and then dosed with mutagen."

He thought about Killbane, Brainchild, Gravestone and Chimaera. They'd been bullies before the genetic enabling factor—but straight up psychos after Whiner dosed them.

"Most of the others are in the Fridge at Longshot. About a half-dozen escaped. The only reason I'm allowed to wear this badge is because I agreed to hunt them down."

"Doesn't sound like much of a life."

He realised with a start that he had never really told anyone this much about his life before the Series Five team before. He'd only told Zach about Max after the man had died, and even that information had to be pried loose with a crowbar. He'd shut the door on his time at Wolf Den a long time ago, yet here he was—practically telling her his life's story. All because she'd batted her eyelashes at him.

Because she'd _asked_, he amended. No-one had ever really asked him about his childhood, before. Not even Annie, who was the first person he'd told in a very long time that he hadn't been born, but decanted.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "It's not that bad—I get health insurance, including dental. And I get to travel, meet new and interesting dirtbags that I get to put behind bars. The food in the canteen isn't bad, either."

She laughed at that. "Oh, well... dental. Sign me _up_."

"You already _are_, remember? Signed on the dotted line before I did."

"I guess. I don't much feel like the law, though."

"That's alright. I can be law enough for both of us right now. I know it's not much—"

"Well, aside from the part where you kidnapped me from my bed in the middle of the night and keep insisting I'm not me, I think you're doing alright. And the part where you didn't just toss me over your shoulder like a sack of potatoes and hightail it off this rock means something to me."

The thought had crossed Goose's mind—more than once. But she didn't seem to notice. Instead, she was just looking at him with those heavy-lidded green eyes, a smile curving her mouth.

Supertroopers don't know anything except fighting, he told Walsh that night at the firing range. The commander hadn't needed to be told that what Shane had really meant was that he didn't know any life except a soldier's. It was what he'd been bred for. It was why he existed at all. But that didn't mean he didn't long for something different. Something more.

Maybe if he hadn't gone back into the barracks... If he hadn't been exposed to Whiner's DNA accelerator, he would have been left alone to join the Rangers without having to become a bounty hunter. Maybe he could have settled down on Ozark with Annie, become a rancher.

Maybes didn't mean much, though. He couldn't change his past—only his future.

He pulled the blanket up to his shoulder, and shifted to try and get comfortable. "Get some shut-eye, Katie."

"Sir, yes sir." She tossed off a sloppy salute and, crossing her arms behind her head, grinned at the ceiling.

"You look like that cat's that got the cream. Feel like sharing?"

"You called me 'Katie'," was all she said, before she rolled over and tugged the blankets up around her. Within minutes, she was fast asleep.

Despite combat training to get shut-eye when and where he could, it took a lot longer for Goose to join her.

* * *

><p>"Rise and shine, sleepy-head."<p>

Niko groaned, and buried her head under her pillow. "Don wanna."

Goose chuckled, and tugged on her bedroll, sending her sprawling to the deck.

"Hey!" Her hair was a rat's nest, and her dress was a mess of wrinkles. Given how out of the Series 5 team, Niko was usually the only Ranger who didn't need a gallon of coffee in order to string two words together in the morning, it was kind of funny.

"Elma finished her data analysis," he said as he rolled up her blankets and stowed them back in the locker, "and found a match for the readings. It's bad news."

"What kinda bad news?" Niko asked as she pulled the pins from her hair and started combing out the knots with her fingers.

"The kind that matches the readings we got about a year ago, on an unaligned planet called Walkab in the Empty Zone. The Queen sent a fleet of Crown agents there, to capture a crazy powerful power source. Turned out to be something called a stargate—a doorway into a parallel universe."

"And you think that's what Slade's digging up?"

"It fits. Slade'll do anything to get the Queen to make her his King. An unlimited power source like the stargate? That would definitely warm the cockles of her cold dead heart. The only good news is that Slade must not have told her worship what he's up to."

"How do you figure that?"

"Blackwater isn't a League world. There's nothing stopping the Crown from sending a couple dozen heavy cruisers and digging it up herself. This place would be crawling with Crown Agents, if she knew."

"So that's all?"

"That's not exactly nothing."

"Yeah, but you made it sound a heck of a lot worse than some fancy battery." She glanced around, and found her boots neatly standing against the wall.

"That's because it _is_. The stargate on Walkab wasn't locked to keep us out—it was locked to keep some creepy plasma beings from a parallel universe _in_. If Slade frees them, we could have a much bigger problem than the Queen of the Crown."

She finished tying the laces on her boots, and shook her skirts out. "What's worse than having your soul sucked into a psychocrystal and turned into a Slaverlord?"

"According to that crazy Captain Weege on Walkab, the creepy aliens harnessed a quantum singularity and used it to break through to our universe hundreds of thousands of years ago. It brought a war to this side of the galaxy. The kind of war that doesn't care about which planets are part of the League, and which planets are part of the Empire."

"Yeah, that would be worse." She swallowed audibly. "So what's the plan?"

"I need to get down deep enough in the mine to plant these," he opened Triton's saddlebags to reveal a cache of round thermal grenades. "That should collapse the mine, and shut down Slade's operation long enough for BETA to round up him and his men."

He mounted Triton, and held out a hand for her. She grasped his wrist, and he swung her up into the saddle behind him. Goose did his very best not to notice the expanse of thigh she flashed before adjusting her skirts.

They ducked low under the branches covering the interceptor, and began picking their way up out of the chasm.

"What about the miners?" Niko asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.

"I'll set the charges for just after meal break, when they're headed back to the cook tent, then pull the alarms. That should clear the place out. Most of them will probably get off Blackwater while they can. Your friend Sadie is going to be short most of her customers, I'm afraid."

"Sadie'll be alright. I ain't known her long, but something tells me she's a survivor."

"Yeah." Goose thought back to Sadie training the phaser pulse rifle at his head. "You may be right about that."

"So, how we gonna infiltrate the mine?"

"We're gonna walk right up to the front door."

"I thought you weren't a front door kinda guy. Or am I missing something?"

"Slade's been recruiting from all over the Empty Zone. You said it yourself—the money's three times the going rate. So why wouldn't a fella who's new in town try his luck?"

"Aren't you worried this Slade'll recognise you? You were _awfully_ careful about not letting that 'droid take our picture today." She batted her eyes.

He felt a blush creeping up his neck. Mostly because she was _right._ There was no way he could avoid the possibility if he worked in the mine. His only chance was that he'd at least be able to avoid being made long enough to plant the charges.

"It's a chance I'll have to take. If we're lucky, I can get in and get out before Slade even realises there are Rangers in Widowmaker."

* * *

><p>They were two hundred meters from the electric fence surrounding the mining compound when Triton slowed.<p>

"Goose, I'm picking up a security 'droid approaching."

"It's OK, buddy. We were expecting that. Just try and blend in."

The horse snorted, tossing his head toward the sad cluster of organic and mechanoid mules tied up at the hitching post. "As if I could ever blend in with these ruffians."

Goose patted Triton's neck affectionately.

"This place gives me the willies," Niko said from behind him.

"Anything more specific than 'willies'?"

"Just... there's something _wrong_ here. I don't know how else to put it."

Before she could elaborate, the 'droid appeared, shoulder-mounted pistols unpacking and fixing on them.

"You are currently trespassing," the 'droid broadcast. "You will remove yourselves from Mr Slade's property immediately."

Goose's hand fell to the grip of his side-arm, thumb easing back to strap and index finger straight, resting against the side of the leather holster slung low on his hip. But Niko laid her fingers over his as she leaned down towards the 'bot, preventing him from drawing.

"X-K27, that you?" she asked, turning in the saddle so she was visible.

"Yes, Miss Katie."

"This is my friend Shane. He's looking for work. I heard your Mr Slade is always looking for more men, specially with some of them going missing and all."

"I am programmed to report any intruders."

"Tell you what—why don't you take us to the foreman. Escort us, like?" She winked at the 'droid, and if he hadn't been a bucket of bytes, he probably would have blushed. "And next time you're at the Dance, you ask Lily to top up your batteries—on the house. You just tell her I sent you."

The 'droid pondered this for a moment, and then began rumbling forward.

"Follow me. Please do not stray from the trail, or I will be forced to blast you."

"After you," Goose said amiably. "Quick thinking," he said, his voice pitched to only carry to Niko's ears. Her arms tightened briefly around his waist, and he could see out the corner of his eye there was a touch of pink on her cheeks at the praise.

There was the sharp smell of ozone as they passed through the open gates of the fence which climbed three meters on either side and was topped with razor wire. It left a bad taste in Goose's mouth. Too much like a prison. But Triton kept moving forward until X-K27 stopped just shy of a tin shack where a group of bipeds gathered around a tall water barrel, clay cups in their hands.

"Please dismount and remain here, while I speak to the shift captain and foreman."

"Chatty fellow, isn't he?" Goose said wryly, and Niko pinched his arm.

"X-K27 is OK—he's got limited programming is all. And anyway, I think Lily is a bit sweet on the big lug."

"Robots in love, huh? Now I've seen everything. It takes all kinds, I guess."

The group around the barrel eyed Goose warily, taking his measure. He recognised one or two of them from their rap sheets—muscle for hire, the sort that creeps like Rancit and Laramie relied on when they needed thugs who had no qualms about muscling in on homesteaders and farmers.

"Fellas," Goose said with a smile.

"Hi there, boys!" Niko drawled as she wrapped her arms around Goose's forearm, clinging to his side to clearly show them he was with her. That seemed to put them more at ease.

The door of the shed opened, and X-K27 rolled out, the foreman at his heels.

At the sight of Niko simpering on Goose's arm, the foreman whipped his hat off, green handlebar tentacles quivering in what Goose hoped was pleasure and not hunger.

"Hello there, Miss Katie," he trilled, mostly to her breasts. Which was a feat given he was near seven feet tall. And confusing, as he was an amphibian species that Goose was pretty sure laid eggs.

"Nils! I haven't seen you at the Dance in days. Don't you like us no more?"

"Mr Slade put me on Third shift, ma'am. On account of... well, recent-like. I must say, I've been missing your pleasant company something fierce."

"Aw, you sure know how to flatter a girl." If Niko had a fan, she would have been flicking it open and shut, Goose mused. Playing her role to the hilt.

"This here's my husband, Shane. We was hoping he might find work here at the mine with you fellas."

"That so?" one of the miners by the water barrel muttered, his eyes narrowing, and Goose bit back a growl.

"I know you've been short-handed and all, what with Jocko, Kivet, and Rikk taking off to God knows where so sudden-like."

"Well, that is a fact, Miss Katie. Third shift has been short two men for near a week now. Mr Slade is on Tortuna, to see if he could hire on more miners from the Hot Stars."

"Well, why go all the way to Tortuna City, when we've got a big, strong fella like Crenshaw right here?"

The foreman turned his red eyes on Goose, who did his best to look earnest and hungry for work, instead of like he wanted to sock him in the jaw for the way his eyes were glued to Niko's chest. It took considerable effort. Had her dress actually got _tighter_ in the last ten minutes? It was a wonder she could breathe at all.

"Tell you what—we'll take you on on a trial basis. Be back here at 8—9 if you wanna skip the chow line, which you might. Food at Sadie's better. We'll see how you do, and if we'll need you back tomorrow."

"I'm real obliged, Mr Nils. Mighty obliged."

The foreman's handshake was cool and wetly sticky, and Goose resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his trousers as they walked back to Triton. He climbed up into the saddle, and lifted Niko up behind him. She waved at the miners as they trotted back through the gates, and as soon as they were far enough out that the spy 'droids no longer circled ahead, Goose let out a breath. So far, so good.

"You were laying it on a bit thick back there, weren't you?"

Niko leaned forward, her breath warm on his ear.

"Even you can't argue with _results_, Gooseman," she pointed out, sounding smug.

He rolled his eyes, and kicked Triton into a canter. She whooped, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist. _I could get used to this._ The traitorous thought slipped into his mind with no warning, and he frowned at the implications.

He'd told her that morning that he hadn't minded his lack of normal childhood, and for the most part that was true. You can't miss something you never had. But that didn't mean that he didn't look at Zach with his kids, and wonder what it would have been like, to have been raised normal. Humans took so much for granted—even down to the importance of touch.

The Foxx family were very physically affectionate with one another, particularly Jessica who often tackled her father with hugs when she was visiting BETA on her school breaks. Watching Zach with his children, all the simple touches that he'd never had, growing up as he did. How much physical contact meant to him, even something so simple as the warmth of Niko's arms around him, her cheek pressed up against his back.

It's not that no-one _ever_ touched him. Doc was always slapping him on the back, or grabbing his elbow to steer him over to his workstation to show him whatever programme he was working on. Zach or Walsh's hand on his shoulder when a mission had gone well, backing up their praise with that casual physical affirmation. It may have been everyday for them, but Goose could count on one hand the people who regularly touched him—casually or not.

It was a very short list.

The fact that Niko went out of her way now and then to reassure him with a touch to his hand or arm meant a lot. More than he'd ever told her. A touch-telepath since birth, she almost never initiated casual physical contact—even with her friends. He cherished those few occasions where she had touched his hand, or clasped his shoulder. Their rarity was part of what made them special.

Aside from Niko, only Annie made a point of being physically affectionate with him. From the day they'd first met, until his last visit to Ozark. She always greeted him with a hug, said farewell with a kiss to his cheek. She treated him like he was any other man—not a big, bad Supertrooper who might bite (though thinking back to Wolf Den, and the hand-to-hand sessions, that fear wasn't entirely unfounded).

His relationship with Annie was simple. She didn't demand anything of him, the way Darkstar had. She didn't ask him to compromise his moral code, the way Daisy had. She was strong, and compassionate, and devoted to her people. For all of those reasons and more, he was fond of her. But that's as far as it went for him. Fondness.

Annie was the kind of girl he could have seen himself settling down with if he'd been a normal human, born to normal parents. But he wasn't. He never would be. That's why he'd never be able to be anything more than Annie's friend.

Daisy, on the other hand... Like Maya of Tarkon, Daisy had liked what she'd seen and made sure he'd known it. They were both women who had no qualms about going after what they wanted. For all he'd teased Niko about Maya's shameless and aggressive flirting, Goose had actually been somewhat relieved when she'd focussed her attentions on Doc, leaving him free from expectations.

Daisy hadn't been shy about _her_ expectations, either. A dance had turned into a kiss, a kiss into rather more than that, and would have become something he was sure he would've regretted, if he hadn't put her off with the reminder that they'd have plenty of time to get to know each other better _after_ the Longshot mission. She'd accepted his lie, joking with him about anticipation being part of the fun. She'd let him go, but not completely. Every time they'd tangled since, her promise that they'd finish their dance someday had haunted him.

He liked Daisy— even, in a small way, respected her. She was cold-blooded and cruel, but she was also canny and clever and the Black Hole Gang was a hundred times more of a threat with her at the head than Patch or MaCross, and that made her dangerous. But it also would have made her a hell of a Supertrooper. He had a type, after all. But he hadn't turned Daisy down just because she was on the wrong side of the law. He'd turned Daisy down because despite early conditioning to find tough, in-charge ladies attractive, the thought of Niko being just down the hall, while Daisy was in his arms, had made him profoundly uncomfortable.

Shane Gooseman had long since accepted that the women he wanted were always the ones he could never have. And the girl in the saddle behind him, her body pressed innocently (or perhaps not so innocently—he wouldn't put it past her) against his, being the biggest "above your pay grade" flag currently in his file.

"Penny?" She said, her mouth next to his ear.

"Huh?"

"For your thoughts? You've gone awful quiet."

"Just thinking about the mission," he lied, and winced, because there was no way she couldn't know he was lying. Especially not the way she'd been picking up on his thoughts earlier. But she didn't push. Just settled herself against him as Triton headed back toward Widowmaker. He wasn't sure if that was better, or worse.

* * *

><p>The sun was dipping toward the horizon by the time they reached the Dance. Niko led him up the back stairs to her room, and he could already hear laughter and shouts from the taproom below as they made their way through the narrow corridor to her room.<p>

"Narissa used to sneak Kivet in the back like this," she said with a giggle. "I guess Sadie's used to it."

Locking the door behind them, Goose dropped into the rickety wooden chair in front of the vanity. Despite the sleep they'd stolen that afternoon, fatigue was starting to creep up on him.

Hell of a week. As glad as he was that Niko was safe (if not entirely sound), he wished they'd taken off in the interceptor and gone straight back to Earth. Which he might have done, if it hadn't been for the spectre of Slade and the Queen getting their hands on the stargate.

And there was still the question of why miners had gone missing, and why no-one in Widowmaker had found any bodies, or asked any questions.

Niko started rummaging around in the wardrobe, and he was prepared for another outlandish burlesque costume. But instead, she pulled out a pair of jeans, heavy boots, and a man's plaid shirt. He felt a sudden stab of annoyance—she couldn't have put those on that morning, instead of the ridiculously revealing dress? But _of course_ she hadn't.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she laid the clothes on the bed and started fussing with the laces of the dress.

"Well, I can't go back to the mine like this," she gestured to the dress, "I'd stand out like a sore thumb."

Goose scrubbed a hand over his face. "Look, you were a big help back there. But this is a solo mission from here on out."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm coming with you." She said it matter-of-factly, and he realised that taking her out with him to scout the mine had been a bigger mistake than he'd realised. In her current state, she was basically a civilian, and there was no way he was going to put her in further danger.

"No. No way." He shook his head, and stood, laying his hands on her shoulders. "Somebody needs to contact BETA for reinforcements if I don't come back out."

"You can't go in there alone! I thought we were partners."

"We _are_."

"Would you make Niko sit out a fight?" she asked.

"If there was no reason for both of us to be in the line of fire? Hell yes."

She stepped back. "I don't believe you."

Goose's arms dropped to his sides. "I don't care if you believe me. But you're staying put if I have to tie you to a goddam chair."

"You do have a thing for bondage, dontcha?" she snapped.

"Look, bad enough Slade might make me. There's no reason for you to get blown, too. So far as we know, your cover's secure. And if something does happen, Triton will take you to the ship and get Elma to take you off-world."

"I don't want to go," she said softly.

"Everything'll be OK, once you get back to Earth. Doc and Q-ball will figure out how to switch off your implant, and get your memories back and all this'll be like a bad dream."

"A nightmare," she said dully.

"Yeah."

"That really what you think this is?" All her teasing smiles vanished, and her face got hard, eyes narrowed with sudden anger. "What if I don't want to go back to being Niko? All alone with nothing but my books and puzzles and dusty old relics? Everything you told me, it sounds like a mighty lonely life—no family 'cept some crazy old lady on a planet nobody's ever heard of. Nothing else but the job. Nothing else but being the law—especially in place where being the law gets you shot at."

"You're not alone. You have family—me, and Zach, and Doc. Even Zozo and Waldo, and Commander Walsh. We're your family. And we need you. Not just because no-one else can do what you do, on the team. We need you because we're not whole without you."

_I'm not whole without you._

"What if I want to stay Katie Alice Crenshaw, you ever think of that?"

"Yeah, well, that's not up to you."

"The hell it isn't!" She growled, anger making her movements stiff and jerky. Goose stood his ground as the pint-sized psychic got right up in his face, two spots of colour high on her cheeks.

"Niko—"

"Stop calling me that!" She shoved him as hard as she could, and he stumbled backwards into the chair, which tipped over onto its side. "That's not my name. That's not who I am."

His back hit the wall, and she kept coming.

"You keep acting like I'm not real. Like I'm not a person. But this is the only life I know. I'm the only _me_ I know. I don't want to die."

"You're _not_ going to die." He tried to stay calm and reasonable, but he could feel her desperation, like the smell of a summer storm before it hit.

"You don't know that. You don't know anything. You just want _her_ back. You don't care what happens to me, so long as your get your precious Ranger Niko back."

"Of course I want her back! She's my friend—my partner."

"Why can't I be enough?" She pushed him again, and he caught her wrists. "Why am I not enough for you? Just me?"

"Because you're _not_."

The look on her face made him regret the words immediately, despite the truth behind them.

She pulled her wrists from his loose grasp and started hitting him again. She may not have had Niko's training, but she still had all of her strength, and he winced as some of her wild blows landed. When her nails drew blood on his cheek, he finally bodily picked her up and dumped her on the bed, straddling her legs and pinning her wrists on either side of her head.

"Stop. Settle down." She struggled, and he tightened his grip. "_Settle_."

All the fight went out of her, and her green eyes swam with tears.

"Are you finished? Are you done?" he asked, feeling shaken himself.

She nodded miserably, and he shifted his weight back onto the bed and released her wrists.

He should have seen what happened next coming from a mile off. But he didn't, and Niko rising up on her forearms and kissing him took him by surprise.

There was so much pain and desperation in that kiss. It hit him like a wave of longing that squeezed his heart in his chest until it hurt to breathe. He had to tear his mouth away from hers, and put his hands on her shoulders, not holding her down—just holding her back. Holding himself back.

"Why can't I be enough?" she whispered, tears clumping her lashes together before they fell. He cradled her face in his hands so he could brush the tears from her cheeks with the balls of his thumbs.

He rested his forehead against hers, drawing a laboured breath. He opened his mouth to say... something. To apologise, to explain. Something.

But then his mouth was on hers again, and her arms twined around his neck. She held onto him like he was the only thing keeping her from flying apart, and maybe he was.

He buried his hands in her hair, fingers catching on the tangled strands before coming to rest at the nape of her neck. He stroked down the curve of her spine with the pads of his fingers as she nipped at his bottom lip with her teeth. She traced the seam of his lips with her tongue until he opened his mouth to her. Her skin was warm beneath his hands, the scent of her arousal making his blood quicken in his veins.

He felt like he was losing himself in her, losing himself in the heat that flared beneath his breastbone as her tongue stroked against his.

He sat back up and she chased his mouth, hands in his shirt and tugging it free of his pants. He heard the buttons popping, landing on the floor as she yanked at it so she could press her palms flat against his suddenly feverish skin. She pushed his shirt halfway down his arms, and dug her nails into the skin of his shoulders. The sting made him hiss in pleasure, pain so sweet in the back of his throat.

Tugging his arms free, he tossed his uniform shirt to the floor. She scooted forward, climbing up into his lap, knees falling to either side of his hips. They barely paused for air, each kiss melting into the next. His hand found her stocking-clad leg, fingers following the pattern of the weave to the warm skin of her thigh. She shivered and arched against him, her breath ragged. Need swelled and ballooned and filled up all the empty places inside him until it _hurt_. And he didn't know how much of it was him, and how much was her and that scared the hell out of him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lowered them back down to the mattress, breaking their fall with his forearms so she was on her back against the sprawl of blankets and pillows, their hips flush. He slid his hand down her thigh to the knee and cupping it, tugged her leg up higher on his hip. He was rewarded by a low, keening sound in the back of her throat that made him cant his hips into hers reflexively.

She tugged at the laces of her dress, trying to work the knot free. He finally reached between them snapped the silk cords with a growl. She laughed breathlessly into the kiss as she worked her arms free of the cap sleeves and tugged it down to her waist, revealing miles and miles of skin above the canvas corset. He smoothed his hands over her bare shoulders, thumbs tracing her collarbones (a voice in the back of his head chiming _finally, finally_) and felt the pulse hammering wildly at the hollow of her throat.

He _wanted_. Years of pent up want fuelled their frantic exploration of each other's bodies with hands and lips and tongues. He wanted to feel all of her skin hot against his, the sweet curves of her body beneath him, cradling him. The scent of her skin was driving him crazy and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and just breathed deeply. She pressed open-mouthed kisses to his throat. At the feel of her teeth, another flare of longing shot through him, and he couldn't catch the moan before it passed his lips.

The loud _click_ of metal on metal as she fumbled with his belt buckle was finally what broke through the haze of desire and brought him back to his senses.

"Stop," he breathed against her shoulder, fingers curling around her waist even as he tried to untangle his legs from hers, "We have to—have to stop."

"Why?" she asked, her voice thick and slightly muffled, her tongue darting out to trace the curve of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "I want you, Shane."

She pressed another kiss to his mouth, and then another, and he had to hold tight to himself to keep from falling again.

"I want you so much," she breathed against his jaw, "and I know you want me too."

He pulled back, hating himself only a little as he did. Her lips were swollen, eyes wild, and a flush was creeping up her breasts and neck. It hurt to look at her, she was so beautiful.

"I do. I'm not gonna lie to you. You'd know if I was lying, anyway." Goose smoothed her hair back from her face and forced himself to look her in the eye. "But I can't. Not like this."

Her hands came up to encircle his wrists loosely, and he took them and folded them back in her lap just as he had earlier. But this time he kept hold of them, thumbs sweeping back and forth over the delicate bones of her wrists.

"You—what we have, it means too much to me. It's too important to throw away for a roll in the hay. And that's all this would be."

Her face took on a pinched look, and she swallowed hard. "What's so wrong with a roll in the hay?"

"Nothing," he said, knowing it was wrong and would hurt her. But nothing he said right now would ever _not_ be the wrong words. The wrong thing to say. There were no right words for this. "But it's not me. And deep down, it's not you either. I know you don't believe that, but right now that's the only answer I've got."

She reached for him, and he flinched away from her as if her touch burned, and maybe it did. The hurt in her eyes turned to anger.

"Get out," she whispered, her voice flat.

"Niko—"

"Get out!" she repeated, scrambling back against the headboard, and her flailing grasping hand found the lamp on the table and let it fly. It crashed against the wall behind his head with enough force that the broken shards skittered across the floor all the way to the window.

He snatched his uniform shirt up. The saddlebags with their explosives were still at the foot of the bed where he'd dropped them. He scooped them up, and she started throwing anything she could reach—a hair brush, one of her boots.

"Get out!" she finally screamed, and he escaped the room by the skin of his teeth, anger and pain at the severed connection flaring along his every nerve.

The door slammed shut, and he listened, hearing her ragged breathing on the other side of the wood turn to quiet sobs.

_Now you've done it, Gooseman._

"I'm sorry," he said softly, palm flat against the wood. But he was met with only silence.

* * *

><p>Goose was sitting at the bar, nursing a pint of spectacularly lousy beer, when Sadie appeared at his elbow. Today's ensemble, replete with hat perched jauntily atop her curls, was robin's egg blue.<p>

"You look lower than a snake's belly." She gestured to the cut on his cheek. "You and Katie have another dust-up?"

"You could say that."

"You got a particular talent for riling that girl up."

"Yeah. I'll put it on my resume, under 'special skills'," he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"She'll come around, you'll see. I ain't known her long, but I seen the way she looks at you. Won't take much to get her to forgive you."

"Not sure she should. I crossed a line."

"Then maybe it's time to draw some new lines," she said, patting his arm in a motherly fashion. "You want my advice? You grab that girl, and you hold on with both hands and all you got."

"That's what got me into this mess in the first place," he murmured into his beer.

"Go on, then. Don't be late for your first shift."

At his look, she shrugged. "Small town. News travels fast."

"That it does."

"Don't worry about our Kate. I'll look after her for you."

"I'd be much obliged, ma'am." He tipped the brim of his hat, and pushed the half-empty glass of beer across the counter toward the bartender. The Dreen nodded, and Goose stalked back out into the evening gloom.

Triton lowered his head as Goose unhitched him from the trough.

"Ranger Niko is not joining us?"

"Just you and me tonight, buddy."

"Is that wise?"

"Not you, too," Goose muttered beneath his breath as he mounted.

"I am only concerned that you may require back-up."

"It's a sad day when even a man's _horse_ second-guesses him."

"A sad day indeed," Triton agreed frostily.

Widowmaker wasn't as empty as it had seemed that morning. As night fell, men and a few women of a dozen different species filled the single wide street. Most of them were congregated around the Dance, but a few sat on benches outside the sad excuse for a trading post, smoking Tortuna-grown tobacco from pipes and hand-rolled cigarettes. They watched Goose and Triton with hooded eyes as they rode past, one of them flicking a still-burning butt at Triton's flank.

The smell reminded Goose of Brainchild, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. _The sooner we get off this blasted rock, the better_, he thought as he urged Triton from a trot into a canter, leaving Widowmaker in their dust.

_Draw new lines. _Sadie's words stuck in his head, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the mission. _Not likely_.

There were few things in Goose's life that he genuinely regretted. Being unable to tell Darkstar _why_ he didn't want her to go with Ray was top of that list. Even before their last encounter on Nebraska, he had known that it had always been her choice to make. That he shouldn't blame himself for her choice. Only for his inability to put into words what he'd known in his gut: that he was better with her than without her, and she meant more to him than she should.

But that old pain was nothing compared to the knot of shame currently in his belly. He'd given into his desires, and taken something he hadn't earned or (deep down where he didn't like to go) felt he deserved. Right then, it didn't matter that it was freely given. He was responsible for his own choices and actions, and he should have been strong enough to 'keep it in his pants' as Doc would say. He should have cared enough about _her_.

And that was not something he was going to get over any time soon. Particularly as he could still feel the ghosts of her touch on his skin like an afterimage.

The sodium-vapour lights of mine were a dim glow on the horizon ahead of them, and Goose slowed.

"Triton, if things go sideways and you don't hear from me by 0100, you go back to the Dance and get Niko to the ship."

"And leave you behind, old friend?"

"If I screw this up, there may not be much of me _to_ leave behind."

Triton remained silent, but Goose knew his decision didn't sit well with the robosteed. They'd been together long enough that he could read the horse's moods—what moods an AI could have, even one he'd partially programmed himself. It only added to his unease about this whole thing. But he'd committed to a course of action. Now it was time to see it through no matter the cost. The Queen must never get the power of the stargate, and the ancient horrors it contained.

The camp was lit up by mounted lights, and seemed to be more active than it had been that afternoon. Goose dismounted and led Triton to the electronic hitching post, where an organic mule bleated its unhappiness at having to share the sparse grass.

"Right on time," Nils said as he waddled over.

"Wouldn't do to be late, my first day. Night, that is."

"No weapons in the mine," he said, gesturing to Goose's gun-belt. "You'll have to leave your blasters in the locker."

"I'd rather leave 'em with my horse, if you don't mind."

"Please yourself, then."

A few dozen miners were queuing up outside the mine, wearing bands with lights and shouldering sledgehammers, pickaxes, and shovels. They were strangely silent. Goose wondered about that. All of the miners he'd seen in town seemed a talkative bunch.

Nils led Goose over to the equipment shed, and told him to pick out gear from the slim leftovers in the tool crib. For his first night, he wouldn't be digging—just mucking. Goose chose a shovel and small pick-axe, and Nils handed a light from the scattered pile.

"What are we mining? Iron?, copper, tin? Can't be coal..."

"Never you mind that—you concentrate on filling that skip as fast as you can, that's all. The more experienced miners do the drilling and the 'droids handle the timbering deep in the shafts. But we always need muckers, to fill the cars and get 'em out to the haulers."

"Shouldn't I have some, well... training?"

The foreman gave him a look. "Can you lift a shovel?"

"Yes, sir."

"All the training you need." Nils shrugged.

"What about fire, flood, that kind of thing?"

"There's a basic fire suppression system," he gestured to a hard line that was tacked along the wall of the mine, handles at random intervals. "You hear klaxons, you get out."

"That it?"

The foreman shrugged. "Pretty much."

_No _ wonder_ miners have gone missing_, Goose thought sourly, but kept his facial expression easy-going and open. _This whole operation is shady as hell._ _No-one to report any accidents to means there's next to no safety limits. _

There was the roar of engines overhead, and Goose looked up to see Slade's silver scout ship the _Death Card_ firing its retros as it landed over by the pad.

"Ah—Mr Slade's back from Tortuna City," Nils said, sounding—surprised? It was hard to read the foreman, unfamiliar as Goose was with his species.

"When do I meet Mr Slade?" Goose tried to sound as casual as possible, but Nils' eyes narrowed.

"You don't," Nils said gruffly. "I wasn't even supposed to bring on any new hires without his approval. I only did it on account of us being short-handed, and you being Katie's bondmate."

_Interesting_, Goose thought as they continued down toward the mine entrance. _Usually it's the foreman who does all the hiring._

Nils stopped just short of the entrance, and motioned for Goose to get in line behind the other miners. "Aside from lunch, you only get two ten minute breaks. Make sure you space 'em far enough apart to make 'em count."

"Yes, sir. When's lunch?"

"Four hours in. Cookie'll ring the bell."

He jerked a thumb toward the 'droid currently ladling stew into a series of bowls for the loiterers from the previous shift.

"And if I hear you're not pulling your weight and doing a day's work—"

"You won't, Mr Nils," Goose promised solemnly before the foreman could finish the threat.

* * *

><p>After three hours of shovelling dirt and rocks into a rail car, Gooseman wondered why the miners hadn't revolted. He'd seen better organised children's tea parties. He'd opened his pack to show the 'droid at the door his canteen, and had been waved through immediately, despite the half dozen detonators hidden in the false bottom. Slade wasn't even attempting to hide the fact that the entire mine was a front, and that the objective appeared to be clearing out one deep shaft in particular. But the creepiest part was the silence of the men at work.<p>

No off-colour jokes, no singing—just the relentless sound of axes hitting rock, and the scrape of shovels, the rattle of pebbles hitting the sides of the metal ore-cars.

Once he realised no-one particularly cared if he stuck to the area where Nils' had assigend him, Goose had been able to hide most of his detonators easily. The side shafts were deserted—clearly started before the true target had been located. His wrist-scanner was completely useless, the readouts scrambled by the power fluctuations that got stronger, the deeper down he worked. The blank-eyed miners didn't even stop him as he worked his way closer to the main shaft, following the tracks of the skips.

The entire mine sloped downward, and by the time he was approximately two hundred metres below the surface, Goose expected to have to put on a rebreather. As he left the last of the human and alien miners behind, there were few ventilation shifts according to Elma's initial scans. However, the air he tasted, though wet, appeared fresh.

The sodium-vapour lights became scarcer, and he could hear the sound of heavy machinery fading into silence as he descended further into the gloom.

Every instinct he had was screaming _get out _as he picked his way through the darkness, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving. He estimated he was close to the bottom of the shaft, and clicked off his headlamp.

A handful of 'droids worked in eerie silence, lifting boulders like they were no heavier than bales of hay. They didn't even notice him as he edged along the wall toward the dark opening they were clearing.

Shane didn't know what he was expecting. But it sure as hell wasn't a vast underground cavern—easily ten times the size of Carlsbad—housing a city.

It was like the ruins on Walkab, but larger. So large he couldn't see its edges, or borders.

_An entire civilisation untouched for millennia._ He heard Niko's voice in his memory, so awed and excited. _What I wouldn't give to bring an archaeological crew here to explore._

He closed his eyes for just a second, and swallowed the pain.

The shaft opened up right in front of a sunken temple almost identical to the one Weege had taken them to. The chamber that held the stargate was in the centre of the lit circle at the bottom of a single flight of wide stairs.

The doors were still standing, but Goose didn't know if that meant the chamber was still sealed.

Goose dug the last of the charges out of his rucksack, and carefully arranged them around the chamber at regular intervals. He was kneeling down to set the timer on the last charge when he heard the scrape of boots on rock. He whirled, and looked up.

Dozens of glowing blue eyes peered at him from the ridge above. His hand twitched to where his sidearm would have been, had it not been up top in Triton's saddlebags.

One shadow separated itself from the rest, and leapt down to ground level, black duster flaring out like a cape.

"Slade," Goose growled.

But the laughter that issued from the shadow was _wrong_.

Wrong, and also familiar.

* * *

><p>Sadie watched Kate go from table to table, her smile plastered on her face, but her eyes straying to the saloon doors every few minutes.<p>

Sadie had a pretty good idea who she was looking for. She'd let Narissa take her turn onstage, and had been barely covering her tables. When McQuaid had come up behind her to ask if she was alright, she'd jumped about a mile high, and spilled a tray full of meteor showers on two customers.

In short: for the first time since Katie had been hired on at the Dance, Sadie was regretting her decision. When the little slip of a human girl came back to the bar to refill her orders, Sadie laid a hand on her shoulder.

"You've been squirrelly as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs ever since you came down tonight. This about that fight you had with your fella?"

She nodded miserably.

"He'll be back, soon as his shift's over. You'll see."

Kate's face crumbled, her lower lip quivering. That surprised her. From day one, Kate Crenshaw had been nothing but sass. She'd handled the Dance's clientele with a wink and a well-placed kick when needed, and Sadie had never once seen her off her game. Not even after being laid up with concussion.

This was not the kind of girl who fell apart over nothing, least of all a man, near as Sadie could tell. She ought to know—the Dance was a regular revolving door when it came to staff, and Riss and Katie were but two in a long line of girls who moved on after a few weeks or months of slinging booze and dodging wandering hands.

"Hey, now, girl." Sadie gathered her close, and Kate dashed away sudden tears impatiently. "It can't be that bad!"

"He's gone off to do something awful stupid, Sadie. And I don't know if he'll make it back at all."

"Jojo, you take over," Sadie called over her shoulder to the bartender, who nodded. "Riss—can you and Lily handle the floor alone for a bit?"

"Miss Sadie—" Narissa began to squawk, but Sadie turned her back on her, shepherding Kate to the stairs leading down to the cellar beneath the bar.

When they got to the bottom of the stairs, Sadie turned on the lights and gestured for Kate to take one of the wooden chairs at the long table where she usually tallied up the bar's take for the night.

Sadie perched on the edge of the table, and laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "What's he gone off to the mine to do, that's got you all turned around?"

Kate looked down at her hands, and worried at her lower lip. She was clearly struggling with something, and Sadie just waited patiently.

"If I tell you, do you promise not to tell a living soul?" Kate finally asked, her knuckles white where she gripped the table.

"Depends on what you got to tell me," Sadie said gently.

"I need to know, Miss Sadie. I need to know that I can trust you. I mean _really_ trust you."

"In the time you've been here, have I done anything at all that might make you think I'd let you or any of my people come to harm?'

Kate shook her head. "No, ma'am."

"Out with it, then. Time's a-wastin'."

Kate took a deep breath, and wiped her nose on the back of her glove. "Shane isn't my husband. He's here because of all them that's gone missing from the mine."

Sadie laughed. "Well, that much I already knew."

"You did?"

"Oh, honey... No offence, but I thought you Galaxy Rangers were a mite smarter than that."

Kate's mouth dropped open in shock. "You _knew_?"

"Since the day you arrived.

Kate's green eyes narrowed. "So, when I 'fell'—that was you?"

"That was Riss, actually. She thought you were tracking her and Kivet for that job they pulled in Carson City. Which I'm guessing you didn't know nothing about to begin with."

"No. I mean, I don't think so?" Kate blushed. "My head's been kinda... mixed up."

"Jojo caught her, before she could do something she'd regret. We got you back upstairs, and when you came to, well, you _seemed_ right as rain. Then when Kivet went missing, but you were still here—well, it was obvious he hadn't got pinched by the law. Once it became clear you weren't after me and mine, well—missing miners are a problem I'd like to see solved too. Not only do those bastards owe me money, but what's a merchant without custom?"

"I still don't understand. If you knew I was a Ranger, why did you keep me on, instead of hanging me out to dry?"

"Because dammit girl, you can _sing_!" Sadie said with a booming laugh. "And sing a damn sight better than Rissa's caterwauling. Business's never been so good, since you got here! And the Dance may not be my primary income, but it sure as hell don't hurt to have a full house every day and night. Now—what's that Ranger fella of yours up to?"

"There's some kind of power source at the bottom of the mine that Slade's after for the Queen of the Crown."

"_That_ bitch," Sadie spat onto the floor. "I come all the way out to Blackwater to get away from the Crown, and you say they're on their way?"

Kate nodded. "Shane was gonna clear everybody out at the lunch break, and then collapse the mine. But that was hours ago. He shoulda been back by now. Or we'd have heard the charges go off."

Sadie frowned. Not because she was worried Kate's Shane wouldn't be able to do what he said. He was over two meters of solid muscle, and seemed competent enough. But because if there was one thing Sadie hated more than drunks who welched on paying their tabs, it was the Queen of the Crown.

"You might be needing this," Sadie said as she handed Niko her badge. "I found it down here, after your accident, hidden away with the commset."

"Sadie!" Lily's synthesised voice came from above. "Sadie, there's a horse in the bar!"

* * *

><p>Katie burst through the doors three steps ahead of Sadie, who was still trying to take in the spectacle of a huge dark grey robosteed smack in the middle of her bar.<p>

"Triton!" Kate grabbed the horses reins. "Where's Shane?"

"Still in the mine. I sensed something—something _familiar_. Something wrong. I fear for my rider's safety."

"You're not the only one," she murmured, burying her face in the horse's mane.

"Kate, this look like a stable to you?" Sadie said mildly, and the girl had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"Did he plant the charges?"

"Goose took them with him, but they never went off. He instructed me to come here, should his mission fail."

"Is he dead?"

"I do not know. But his orders were to take you to the ship, and leave him behind."

"No. No way, no how." Kate shook her head, and Sadie recognise the stubborn set to her shoulders, even if the horse didn't.

"I have my instructions."

"I know you do. Lemme think on this a second... if I get on you, you'll take me to the ship. And if I get in the ship, Elma will take me back to Earth."

"Yes, Ranger Niko."

"On account of those were Shane's orders, and you and Elma are programmed to follow Shane's orders."

"You are correct, Ranger Niko."

"Right." She turned back toward the bar. "Jojo, I need your cart!"

The Dreen bartender blinked, and then turned to Sadie, who just nodded.

"If you're going, then I'm going with you."

"Sadie, this isn't your fight."

"Ain't it?" Sadie turned back to her staff and the remaining patrons who hadn't been scared off by the robosteed or Kate's badge pinned somewhat incongruously to the front of her costume. "OK folks, listen up! I got run off my homeworld by that bitch the Queen of the Crown. I ain't getting run out of my home again. You don't have to join me—but I'll think mighty less of you, if you sit this one out. What do you say? You in?"

There was silence across the bar.

"Right, how 'bout this: anyone who does join in, I cover their tab."

That got folks moving. The bar became abuzz with activity, as folks got up and started checking the charges on their sidearms. The three Dreen—Jojo, McQuaid, and Randy—chose heavy weaponry from the wall, their hippo-like ears flattening against their skulls. Sadie moved back over to Kate's side.

"Triton, can you talk to Elma?" Kate asked, hope shining in her green eyes at last.

"I can open on a communications channel."

"Good. You tell her to bring that fancy Ranger ship to the mine. It's got guns, right? Weapons, I mean?"

"Yes. _Ranger 3_ is equipped with a full array of weapons."

"Good. Cos I think we may need a full array of weapons."

"Well, if that's all we need..."

Sadie reached behind the row of whiskey bottles to pull a lever, and Kate's eyes went round as saucers as the far wall spun on a hidden axis to reveal racks and racks of weapons. Everything from BETA standard issue blasters to pulse rifles, fission grenade launchers, neutron bombs, annihilator laser rifles, Crown disrupters and tri-charges.

"You're a _gunrunner_?" Kate finally stammered, and Sadie chucked her under the chin with a bent finger, before handing her a box of charged power cells and a double-barrelled pulse shotgun.

"Oh honey, do you really think I came all the way to the Empty Zone just to sling hash and sell watered-down whiskey to a bunch of miners with more money than sense? Blackwater's main trade has _always_ been in guns. And anyway, I owed you for driving FitzMaurice's gang out. It made me the only game in town," she said with a wink.

* * *

><p>When Goose came to, it was to a world of pain and the taste of his own blood in his mouth and his breath whistling in his skull. It hurt to breathe. Broken ribs, then. Possibly a punctured lung. Eyes closed, he tried to get a sense of how bad off the rest of him was. Felt like his cheekbone might be fractured. Hard to tell with his hands bound behind his back. His right knee felt as if it had twisted the wrong way, too. There was a long shallow gash from his hip across his thigh that was bleeding sluggishly. Superficial, though it might slow him down.<p>

He'd taken worse beatings, but not in a while. They'd had shovels and axes in addition to fists and heavy work boots. His biodefences would heal the worst of it, given enough time. Assuming he had any time left. If he could reach his badge from where he'd pinned it beneath his shirt... But he should save his charge. If he had any chance of getting out of this mess, he'd need it.

He opened his eyes—or tried to, anyway. His left eye was swollen shut. Fresh pain lanced through his head, but he gritted his teeth and waited for the shadows to solidify into shapes.

He was lying on his side on the dirt floor of a stone chamber lit by a single naked bulb hanging high above him, casting deep shadows on the carved walls. There appeared to be bundles of cloth stacked waist-high in one corner.

There was a sense of being watched. Goose craned his neck, and realised he was in the stargate chamber. The black gate floated four feet off the floor, silent as a grave. He may not have been psychic like Niko, but that didn't mean he wasn't unsettled by the damned thing. Like a low level hum he could barely hear, it radiated dread and forboding.

The feeling of being watched did not go away. Now that he had seen the gate, it only intensified. Why was he still alive? Not that he wasn't grateful. But it made no damned sense.

Ignoring the screaming pain as best he could, he propped himself up on his side. He nearly blacked out, but breathing steadily through his nose, he managed to get into a sitting position.

As his one good eye adjusted to the light, he realised what he'd taken for piles of fabric were in fact bodies. At least a dozen, with the foreman Nils on top, his face frozen in a rictus of horror. All of them bore similar expressions, and all were that same washed-out sickly grey as if something had sucked all the blood from their bodies. And it wasn't just humans. He recognised Kivet from Niko's reports, as well as a half-dozen other sentient aliens.

Not the work of Slaverlords. Something familiar, though. Even through the red haze of pain, he could almost name it.

His hands were bound, but he began limping along the wall, searching for a sharp edge he might use to cut the ropes. One of these days, he was going to ask Q-ball to cook up spurs like Daisy had, with a cutting tool. Assuming he survived today. That possibility was looking more remote by the second.

He had found a jagged piece of rock and was sawing away at his bindings when he heard footsteps.

Slade entered, flanked by two mining 'droids. Their eyes, unlike the miners', glowed steadily red. Behind him were a half dozen humanoids, still eerily silent, their eyes still glowing blue.

"Lazarus Slade, you're under arrest," Goose ground out between clenched teeth.

Slade just laughed. As he threw his head back, manic laughter filling the chamber, he began to glow. Before Goose's eyes, Slade's face _melted_, revealing a gruesome blood-red skull with yellowed, jagged teeth and dark sunken pits where his eyes ought to have been.

"I am the Awakened One, the ravager of worlds!"

_Oh great. _ This_ guy,_ Goose thought reflexively.

But this changed everything. At least Niko would soon be safely off-world, out of harm's way. That was the only silver lining to this particular dark cloud. They'd faced the Scarecrow before, and there was no way he was going to be able to take him out alone. Not without something like the Heart of Tarkon, or a tactical nuke strike. They'd been flat-out lucky on Mesa, and lost a next-gen Andorian drive in the process. And he'd still popped back up on Tarkon, like a goddam recurring _disease_.

"You have thwarted me for the last time, Galaxy Ranger. But your coming here _will_ serve

my purpose."

"Like hell," Goose managed as the 'droids roughly grasped his arms, lifting him to his feet.

With a wave of his hand, the Scarecrow began to glow with bolts of lightning that danced along his arms and hands. As Goose watched in horror, the remaining humanoids in the chamber were limned in white crackling energy. One by one, all the colour drained from their skin and the fell like discarded toys.

The Scarecrow didn't even look at them. It just drained them dry like some kind of sick psychic vampire. It raised its hands again, and blue fire sprang up between its fingers. Goose struggled, but he was held fast by the iron grip of the 'bots. His right knee sent waves of pain up his entire side as he caught his weight on the wrong leg.

"You are a slave to my will. You will do what I tell you."

Tendrils of blue energy encircled him, and then seeped inside him, destroying and remoulding without physical form. His scream faded into white noise.

The pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The blue light licked at his will, his sense of self, his anger and his primal fear. It filled him, sapping away everything that he was, hollowing him out until there was nothing left but obedience.

"I will obey, Lord." His mouth formed the words without his permission.

The Scarecrow laugh again, a sickening sound that bounced off the stone walls and filled Goose's entire world.

"You will free my brethren, and together we will defeat our ancient foe. After a thousand centuries, I will have _my vengeance._"

* * *

><p>X-K27 had a choice to make.<p>

His programming usually only allowed for binary choices, which was all he really needed to get through most days.

As the cloud on the horizon grew closer, the whine of a Galaxy Rangers interceptor's engines with its turret guns down and aimed at his main power converter filling the air, he made the only choice that would ensure he could maintain his present state of life continuity.

With the whir of servos and motors, X-K27 opened the gates.

* * *

><p>With Elma providing cover fire, the staff of the Last Dance made short work of the remaining miners. Only a handful of humanoids and 'droids were above-ground, and those who weren't stunned in the first volley of enemy fire were taken out by the interceptor's turret guns. Narissa and Jojo rounded them up, and Sadie grabbed the nearest miner's chin, scowling at his glowing blue eyes.<p>

"This ain't right," Sadie said softly, dread forming a tight ball in the pit of her stomachs.

"No. And it's somehow... familiar," Kate said, her hand reflexively going to the gold star she now wore at her waist.

Shane's horse pulled the cart right up to the entrance of the mine and Randy and McQuaid leapt down to unhitch Jojo's cart. As soon as it was free, the metal horse reared up on its hind legs and pawed at the air.

"Goose is this way," the horse said, face-plate lighting up with each word. Sadie turned to X-K29, who hadn't strayed from Lily's side since they'd come thundering through the electrified fence like avenging angels.

"How many more down there?"

"There are currently nine additional miners from Third Shift," X-K27 droned. "Four heavy mining 'droids, and the rest organic."

"Katie's Shane one of them organics?"

"Yes, Miss Hawkins."

Katie followed the horse, and Sadie stayed right on her heels. "Riss! Load these varmints into the cart. X-K27, you get them mules hitched up to the cart, and you ride hell-bent for Widowmaker."

"But Sadie, what about you?" Riss asked, her beak clicking in fear. "You can't take on a half dozen armed men by yourself!"

"Can't I?" Sadie snapped, shouldering her rifle. "You as want to follow me, come with us! But there's no guarantee we'll make it back out alive. You don't hear those charges go off, you get on Katie's comm and tell BETA what's happened here."

"BETA!" Riss' crest of feathers stood on end. "You want us to call in _BETA_?"

"It's them or the Crown, girlie. You wanna end up a Slaverlord?"

"I'm with you, Miss Hawkins," Jojo said, shouldering a grenade launcher. "The Queen of the Crown would dirty up the place."

"Suits me just fine," Sadie said, giving the Dreen a pat on the nose. Two more of her regulars—a skinny humanoid named Kyle, and a short, stocky Tortunan called Noolan— joined them, and they ran towards the mine's entrance.

Triton stopped at the first ore car on the track. "Get in."

They climbed into the empty car, and the horse bent its head, rotors and bolts clicking in its shoulders as it started pushing the car down the track. Its powerful hindquarters propelled the car downward, gaining speed with each step.

The ore skip thundered along the tracks, and Sadie crouched low as the wind whipped at their hair and clothes. BETA was going to owe her a new hat.

"What's the plan?" she shouted over the noise.

"Find Shane and get out," Kate yelled back.

"_That's_ your plan? That's your _plan_?"

"You got a better one?"

"Yeah. You find your Ranger. I'm gonna shoot anything that moves."

"Good plan!"

The skip reached the end of the track with the scream of metal on metal. Sadie gaped as both the robosteed and her latest hire leapt down from the ridge, in Kate's case somersaulting in mid-air before landing light as a cat on her feet.

Sadie whistled lowly. Who knew the girl had it in her? She'd grabbed two standard-issue BETA blasters from the horse's saddlebags, and held them at the ready as she stalked forward.

Down in the gloomy chamber, Sadie could make out two giant doors which had been blasted open, laying on their sides at the foot of a set of wide stairs. Almost as soon as she saw them, red laser fire lit up the darkness, and she ducked as a blast whizzed right by where her head had been a moment ago.

Three heavy 'droids lumbered out from between the shattered doors, their shoulder-mounted guns fixed on the ore-skip. A forth followed at a distance. All of their eyes glowed an eerie red in the dimness.

"Jojo!" she shouted, and the Dreen gave her a curt nod. They rose as one and began returning fire.

Less than a hundred yards from the doors, Kate began firing, using the robosteed for cover. She was a good shot, too, Sadie noted even as she began laying down cover fire.

One of the 'droids spun on its heels once before gently falling like a felled tree. One down, three to go, Sadie thought grimly, slamming a new charged magazine into her blaster.

As the metal of the skip began to glow red and heat up from the repeated blasts, Sadie motioned for the Jojo to follow, leaving his brothers to hold the tunnel entrance along with Kyle and Noolan as they climbed carefully out of the skip and began the slow descent down the almost sheer rock face.

Meanwhile, Kate and that crazy horse had made a bee-line for the temple doors. As Sadie watched, the darkness swallowed them up.

* * *

><p>Trapped like a fly in amber by the Scarecrow's power, Goose struggled but it was no use. He was a passenger in his own body, unable to stop himself from tapping his badge. Power flooded his battered, abused body, instantly knitting bones and torn flesh together. His form still outlined in gold light, he removed his glove and pressed his bare hand to the front of the stargate.<p>

At the will of his master, his arm began to glow brightly, the very cells reacting to the power that thrummed inside the dense black gate which swallowed light like a black hole. As he watched, unable to howl his anger and fury, his hand sank into the solid shadow up to the wrist, just above the lock.

"The key..." the Scarecrow hissed. "You must reach the key, so my brothers and I can be reunited!"

Goose's body tensed at the first ghostly touch against his naked flesh.

_Free us..._

_Need life. Must have it..._

_Enter the flesh..._

He felt the voices more than heard them. They didn't sound male or female—just ancient and hungry.

"Yes! My brethren shall be free!"

Distantly, as if in a dream, Goose heard laser fire.

Everything narrowed to his fingers blinding groping for metal, even as tendrils of red began weaving up his wrist, almost to the elbow.

"Shane!" a woman's voice screamed, and even trapped by the Scarecrow's will, his head snapped around.

Niko raced into the cavern, Triton skidding in front of her just as the Scarecrow loosed two bolts of blue energy from his hands.

"No!" the Scarecrow growled in frustration, and the four 'droids lumbered off toward the entrance of the temple. "I will not be turned from my purpose! Not when I am so very close to victory!"

The robosteed's gun-metal plating showed scorch marks, and his face-plate cracked from the impact, but the horse remained standing. As the Scarecrow advanced, Triton reared up, striking out with his powerful hooves.

Goose felt his master's will slacken a tiny bit, and he struggled to pull his arm from the gate, but then power slammed back into him. Blue fire lanced from the Scarecrow's eyes, and Goose's captive mind screamed as the stolen life force of the miners boosted his implant's charge.

"The key! You must not stop until you have the key! Kill her if you must, but you must open the gate!"

_Niko, get out of here!_ Goose tried to open his mouth to scream, but his body wouldn't obey him.

Laser fire erupted from the open doorway to the stone chamber, and Sadie, three Dreen at her back, came into view. Niko dove to the side and rolled back to her feet, her blasters letting off shot after shot. But the Scarecrow only laughed as it's desiccated body absorbed the blasts.

Goose's fingers brushed freezing cold metal, and sweat stood out on his brow as he fought the Scarecrow's control with everything he had.

It wasn't enough.

"Shane," she dropped the blasters, and reached for him. In horror, Goose watched as his own free arm shot out and his hand closer around her throat, lifting her off the ground.

Her green eyes widened and she clutched at his wrist with both of her hands, nails tearing at his flesh, but he could feel the bones of her throat beneath his fingers. The pressure as he squeezed. Her face grew red as she struggled for air, and Goose's mind screamed and pain and terror that she was going to die here, by his hand. But his fingers never let up the pressure.

Finally, she reached for her badge. It glowed brightly in the darkness, and licks of gold fire raced along her limbs. The entire cavern faded away as he fell into her violet eyes.

_Shane, you have to fight him! Fight his control!_ Her voice was in his head, as if her lips were against his ear.

_I'm trying_ , he tried to tell her. His death-drip on her throat remained. She kicked out, and finally got purchase with one foot against his thigh, even as gold fire radiated from her body as she fought him with her remaining charge.

_I can't do this alone_, she wailed in his mind as she scrambled for breath, trying to lever her body out of his reach. _You need to fight. You're stronger than this! You're the strongest man I know. Please, fight!_

_Drain my charge_, he whispered with the last of his free will. _We've done it before—draw the power out of my implant, into yours._

_No! Without your charge—_

_Do it, girl!_

With a cry of pain, she finally wrenched herself out of his grasp, and fell coughing at his feet. Still tethered to the stargate, he kicked out with his left leg, but she deftly avoided him.

Goose was both terrified and proud as she continued to fight, a well-placed kick glancing off his temple, causing him to see stars. He dropped to one knee, and blocked another kick with his forearm.

Goose's hand closed around the key. It burned—so cold. He imagined his fingers blackening, bone showing through the torn skin.

Niko dropped back, and brilliant white light arced between them, as if she were completing a circuit. Goose felt his charge beginning to ebb, and he almost wept for joy as she used his implant's power to strengthen her own.

"No!" the Scarecrow screamed as it turned away from Triton and back towards the stargate. It threw two bolts of energy at Niko's back. Goose pushed with all his will to try and break the ancient evil's hold on him, as the Scarecrow's blows glanced off her shield.

She turned to face the Scarecrow, her dark curls whipping around her as she continued to pull as much energy as she could into her defences.

"You can't have him," Niko ground out between gritted teeth. "He's mine. You get that, Scarecrow? _Mine_."

* * *

><p>Jojo dropped another of the 'droids, and Sadie concentrated her fire on the monster—she had no other word for the being that threw bolt after bolt of blue fire at them while standing in a circle of bodies. Bodies of men Sadie recognised. She was glad, suddenly, that Riss was up top. She didn't need to see what had surely killed her Kivet. It would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life. Assuming any of them made it out of this to sleep and dream.<p>

While the Dreen kept firing, Sadie stole a glance at Katie and couldn't hold back a gasp.

When Sadie was a girl—before she was 'Sadie Hawkins' at all, in fact—she had listened with rapt attention as her firstmother had told her and her sisters about the war of the heavens between Zaru and Her consort Ithan. It had spawned their world, that battle; Zaru's tears forming their seas, Her bones the mountains, and Ithan's blood the planets vast purple grasslands where the beebee grazed.

Watching the glowing forms of Kate and her Shane made her remember those myths. She felt as if two titans were clashing, and nothing would survive in the resulting battle, no matter _who_ won. A shiver ran down her spine.

The robosteed kept getting between her and a clear line of sight. With a very unladylike curse, Sadie darted forward, slamming up against a rocky outcropping only a few meters from that unholy black box.

Sadie saw the nightmare creature howl in rage as the gold light coming off Kate in waves finally pushed out the last of the eerie blue from the handsome Ranger fella's eyes. He sagged, looking half-dead for a second. But then he staggered to his feet.

Rays of brilliant white light shone from the front of the box, piercing the darkness.

"Atta girl," she breathed, and shielded her eyes as Shane Crenshaw began glowing until he was a solid gold shape, and the tendrils of red that had wrapped themselves around his arm released him with a scream that Sadie _felt_ rather than heard.

Kate gripped Shane's arm, and pulled with all her might. No longer trapped, Kate and Shane tumbled to the ground, him covering her with his body and curling tight around her as the wind kicked up as if they were in the centre of a hurricane.

The creature howled in fury as it was dragged toward the matte black surface, its talons making furrows in the loose soil of the mineshaft as it was pulled closer and closer. With a furious screech, it was lifted into the air and, cloak flapping around it like wings, was swallowed whole by the gate.

There was a single beat of silence before the black box glowed solid white, and the earth beneath their feet began to shake.

"We've got to get out!" Kate yelled as Shane climbed onto the robosteed's back and grabbed her arm to pull her in front of him. "This whole place is coming down!"

Jojo grabbed Sadie around the waist, and in three leaps was close enough to grab his brother's out-stretched hand. The Dreen all but tossed her into the ore-car, and she smacked her head on the side hard enough to make her ears ring.

The other two Dreen piled in after them, McQuaid clutching his arm to his chest, the smell of charred flesh filling her nostrils. Noolan was dead, his eyes wide above a charred laser blast in the centre of his chest. Sadie couldn't see Kyle, but she hoped he'd been able to get clear in time.

"Go, Triton!" Shane yelled, and the robosteed pushed the car up the track, the sound of its faceplate shattering as it threw its entire weight behind them lost in the rumble.

The skip lurched foreword with the scream of distressed metal, sparks flying from the wheels as they climbed out of the darkness. Dirt, rocks, and pieces of timber began raining down on them, the heat of the blast chasing them.

The skip reached the end of the track and tipped over on its side. Sadie got Jojo to his feet, and they stumbled drunkenly out and ran hell-for-leather as the ground behind them cracked and shifted.

"Sadie!" Kate screamed, and she looked up to see a ladder in front of them, extended down from the Ranger interceptor. She grabbed on with both hands, the others grabbing the lower rungs.

She looked down to see, the dawn painting the entire landscape bloody. The electric fence surrounding the camp toppled inward with a shower of sparks, and was dragged slowly down into the centre. The shiny, fancy ship of Slade's was already sinking into the dirt, the tents, shacks, and outbuildings falling inward to break apart like twigs and leaves in a creek.

The Ranger ship pulled back, and the ground rushed away beneath them at an alarming rate. Sadie's mouth dropped open in flat-out shock as that fool horse bunched up its hindquarters and _leapt_.

_They won't make it. They can't make it._ Sadie wanted to close her eyes, but she watched the dark horse and riders sailing over the crevasse as if he had rocket boosters in his hooves. Clearing the ground even as it crumbled behind them, they landed hard less than a meter from the end of the expanding sinkhole, dirt and pebbles raining backwards into what was starting to look more and more like a crater.

The horse gave another few stumbling steps before it foundered, neck dipping low enough that Kate almost slid over its neck. In slow motion, the big Ranger behind her slid sideways off the back of the beast. Kate gave a startled yelp, trying to grab handfuls of his shirt to keep him on the back of the horse. But he was too big, and only succeeded in his weight dragging her to the ground with him.

They landed in a heap on the dry grass, a tangle of limbs and clothing.

There was a blast of fire from where the mine used to be, climbing at least a mile into the sky. Sadie squawked, curling into a ball around the ladder. She felt the wave of super-heated air licking at them until the ship pulled out of range. With a final rumble, and shower of debris, the quake slowed and then finally stopped.

Sadie stumbled to the ground as the ship lowered them back down, the metal rungs of the ladder dragging in the dirt. As the ship set down a ways up from the carnage, aside from the groan of collapsing timbers and crackling of flames, it was finally quiet.

The horse stumbled to its feet as Sadie approached, and was circling his riders, tail swishing anxiously.

Sadie collapsed to her knees next to Kate, who was coughing, her clothes streaked with sweat, blood, and grime, her dark curls powdered grey with dust. Blood streamed down her face from a shallow cut at her hairline, but she seemed completely unaware of her own hurts. Her entire focus was on the big cowboy lying motionless on the grass.

"Goose," Kate was saying over and over, her voice raw and painful to listen to. "I got you, I got you."

His eyes were dull and his mouth slack as she got her shoulder under one arm, tugging him up into a sitting position. His skin was grey beneath the coating of dust, lips cracked. He looked half-dead, and Sadie hoped like hell there wasn't going to be another body for her to bury today.

Sadie watched as Kate rested her forehead against his, tears streaking her cheeks.

"You're going to be OK," she said, choking on her tears. "We made it."

"Kate?" his voice came out like a frog's croak.

She started to shake her head, but he leaned forward, cradling her face in his hands. Then he was kissing her like he never meant to let her go. Kate stiffened, and then melted into his embrace.

Sadie just chuckled. Obviously if he was up for _those_ kinds of shenanigans, he was gonna be just fine.

_Well, maybe later_, she thought as he passed out cold, his head in Kate's lap.

Sadie turned to her boys, and sighed. "Come on—let's get these two home."

* * *

><p>Goose opened his eyes and squinted at the harsh bright light of the medbay. He closed his eyes again, and groaned. His head was pounding like he'd had a dozen meteors, and that was saying something as his biodefences meant he couldn't actually get drunk.<p>

"Anyone get the number of the freighter that hit me?" he rasped, attempting to open his eyes again without feeling like he was gonna hurl.

"Oh good, you're awake!" Q-Ball's grinning face appeared above him.

"How long was I out?"

"Eight hours," Q said.

"What?" He scrubbed his hands over his face, and then stared down at his pals. The right hand was missing its calluses, the skin pink and itching. He hadn't hallucinated that, then.

"According to Ranger Niko's preliminary report, you had an incredible amount of energy coursing through you. Your biodefences were pushed to their limit."

"Niko," He sat bolt upright, and it took Q-Ball and Walsh both to wrestle him back down to the bed.

"She's fine, Shane," Walsh said, his hand resting on his shoulder," aside from some bumps and bruises."

He pointed to a bed on the far side of the medbay, where Niko was similarly dressed on loose blue scrubs, and appeared fast asleep under clean white sheets. The nanites had been deactivated so it shone with red highlights under the bay's banks of fluorescents.

"I was able to turn off her implant," Q-Ball said with a wide smile that he no doubt thought was reassuring but Goose thought was merely unnerving, "and we've repaired the damage. I'm keeping her overnight for observation, but she should be released tomorrow."

"For the record, I'm not accustomed to having to send a rescue team after my rescue team," Walsh said, but his eyes were smiling as he said it.

"Widowmaker turned out to be a heck of a lot more than we bargained for," Goose murmured, closing his eyes and grimacing.

"We had a very interesting comm from a woman on Blackwater ordering us to, and I quote, 'get our asses down there to retrieve our wayward babes.' Captain Foxx was already en route to the Empty Zone, as you failed to check in as scheduled."

"How many of the miners made it out?"

"We may never know. There were no bodies recovered—the site was completely destroyed when the stargate imploded. We don't even know if Slade was even there to begin with. The Scarecrow does have a history of assuming identities, to achieve his goals."

"Yeah. Figures. He coulda been posing as Slade for weeks, and we'd never have known about it."

Walsh's expression softened, and he patted Goose's shoulder again.

"Go home, Shane. Let your biodefences to the rest of the work to get you back on your feet. I don't want to see hide nor hair of you for at least 48 hours, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Shane? I look forward to your full report. I'm sure it'll be interesting reading."

* * *

><p>Goose didn't look up as the maintenance bay doors opened. He didn't have to.<p>

"Thought I'd find you down here," Niko said softly, and he kept his head down as he worked. Her voice was huskier than usual, something he would normally find appealing if it hadn't been for the circumstances.

"Just cleaning the crud out of Triton's servos."

He kept working, but he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck.

After a long, awkward moment, she reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder.

He finally turned to face her. She was back in her duty uniform, her hair brushed out and hanging like a curtain of silk down her back. If he looked closer, he could see the pale yellow outline of bruises just visible on her neck above its collar.

She realised what he was staring at, and she tugged at her collar self-consciously.

"Not all of us have biodefences," she reminded him. "I've had worse from sparring with you and Zach."

"Yeah. I guess," he said, but the memory of his hand around her throat was still raw.

"Shane, why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not—"

She crossed her arms and just gave him her _you're so full of it, mister_ look. He'd been on the receiving end of that glare too often to mistake it. "Ever since I was cleared by Medical, every time I enter a room, you leave. And you've been having Elma screen your comms. _And_ you traded the Longshot briefing with Doc, just so we wouldn't be in the same shuttle."

"You noticed that, huh?" He tugged off his work gloves, and scratched the back of his head, feeling sheepish. On a team their size there was no way he could avoid her forever. But he hadn't been quite ready to face her. Not after the way they'd left things in Widowmaker.

Clearly, she did not have the same problem.

"We need to talk about what happened on Blackwater."

"I already gave Walsh my report," he said curtly, turning back to Triton's open access panel.

"I'm not talking about the mission, and you know it."

"Nothing to talk about," he said with a shrug.

"We almost died," she pointed out.

"Almost only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades," he finished for her, trying to keep his tone light.

"I know, but... I want—I _need_ to apologise."

He turned back around. "Hey, no apologies necessary, pretty lady. You weren't... yourself "

"That's the thing—I was," she said, and he knew his shock must have shown on his face from the way the blood rushed to her cheeks. But she lifted her chin a fraction, a determined set to her shoulders.

"All those things I said and did, it may not be a part of me I show others. But it _is_ a part of me. It's who I would be, if I hadn't been raised the way I was. Without all my training, all the..." she struggled to find words for something she clearly rarely tried to articulate.

"Control?" he supplied.

She nodded.

"Telepaths on Xanadu are raised to respect other beings privacy, and never to use our gifts on someone else without their permission. It doesn't matter that my judgement was impaired. It was still a serious breach of ethics, and, well... just plain rude."

He chuckled despite himself. "God forbid anyone ever think you're rude."

"Shane, I'm trying to be serious. I may not be proud of what I did while I was... not myself. But you didn't take advantage of me. If anything, I took advantage of _you_. And I'm sorry."

"You didn't," he said, and winced at how the words came out. "God, Niko—Look, you _didn't_. How can you think that?"

"How can you _not_?" she shot right back. "Humans would say I was operating solely on the pleasure principle. Acting purely based on my... desires. I wasn't just reacting to... what I wanted. I was projecting. _Loudly._" She winced, and her cheeks grew even redder. "On Xanadu, it's a little more complicated than that. Someone with gifts like mine, we take an oath. One's mind belongs to oneself, and it is forbidden to interfere with the intellect, will, or passions of another. That's our oldest law. And I violated it."

He raised a brow. "Do you want me to arrest you?"

She smacked his arm in annoyance.

"Don't you think this is hard enough for me already?"

"Hey, if you're looking to give me an out, like Doc would say: it takes two to square-dance."

She gave him a wry half-smile. "I don't think that's quite the expression."

"Close enough." He took a deep breath. If she was being this honest with him, he felt he owed her at least as much candour. "I crossed a line. That's on me. And if I've been avoiding you—"

"Which you _have_."

"—it's because I didn't know how to face you. After what I did."

She looked like she dearly wanted to disagree with him, but she remained silent. Best way to interrogate someone, the training always said, was to give them silence to fill. Enough rope to hang themselves with.

Goose scrubbed a hand over his face, and blew out a breath.

"Look, I'm a pretty straightforward guy. I get angry, and I get mad. My idea of creative problem-solving tends to involve punching people. I don't have much in the way of experience with... other stuff."

"Physical and emotional intimacy?" she offered, and it was his turn to twist his lips into a wry smile.

"I was gonna say 'girls'. But yeah. That stuff. Seeing you cut loose like that, it was an eye-opener. Not gonna lie about that. But it made me realise how much control you must use every day, you know? How disciplined you are. That's a strength in my book—not a weakness."

He took a deep breath.

"And back in Widowmaker, I was the one who _should_ have stayed in control. And I didn't. I was weak."

"You—" she began, already moving to stop him, but he held up a hand, palm out.

"Let me finish."

She pursed her lips, but stayed silent.

"Supertroopers aren't supposed to have weaknesses to be exploited. Everything I am—everything I was created to be—should have denied that weakness. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't want caring about somebody to be a weakness."

"Oh." Her face fell, the blush making its way up to the tips of her ears, and she ducked her head, "I—I understand. I get it. What you're saying."

She turned away, and Goose bit the inside of his cheek. He could almost hear Doc's voice. _Use your words, my Goose Man. _But words weren't his strong suit. Never had been. He was better with actions.

And if there was ever a time to take action, he figured this was it.

He took a single step and snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. Her eyes went wide, and she caught herself against his chest, fisting the material of his uniform in both hands. Goose tipped her head back with a bent finger beneath her chin.

"I don't think you do." Her eyes flicked to his mouth, and then up to his as he traced the curve of her bottom lip with the ball of his thumb. "What I'm saying is what I've always said... I'm not a Supertrooper anymore. I'm a Galaxy Ranger."

He leaned down until his lips were almost touching her ear, his breath stirring her hair. "And I like brunettes."

He cradled her cheek in his hand and turned her head, feeling the warmth of her breath on his cheek as he brought his mouth to hers.

Unlike in their first and last kisses on Blackwater, there was no fear or desperation as her lips met his. Just a profound sense of tenderness mingled with a touch of hesitance. As if this was a test, to see how they fitted together.

"That's convenient," she murmured as he pulled back, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled.

"Yeah?" It came out a little more breathless than he'd intended.

She reached up to twine her arms around his neck, carding her fingers through his short hair where it touched his collar.

"I happen to have a thing for blonds."

She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his and this time there was nothing hesitant about it.

He'd only intended to prove a point, to let her know where she stood with him. But as she tipped her head back just a fraction to deepen the kiss, he was currently the one getting schooled. Her body was warm where it pressed against him, and he sighed against her mouth. He slid his hands down her back under the heavy fall of her hair to pull her closer.

As she opened her mouth beneath his, something welled up inside him, warm and almost painfully bright, making it hard to breathe. With surprise, he realised it was _joy_. He clung tight to it, and to her, and tried to make sense of the new, unfamiliar feeling. Once again there was the sensation of falling, but also the sure knowledge that she would be there to catch him.

He was interrupted by Triton nudging him between the shoulder blades with his cold metal nose, almost knocking him off-balance.

"Hey!"

"Ranger Gooseman, if you and Ranger Niko intend to continue in this fashion—_must_ my circuits remain open to the elements?"

"Sorry, buddy," Goose said while Niko giggled, her face pressed into his chest. He slapped his horse's open access panel with one hand, the other arm still tightly curled around Niko's waist, pulling her off-balance. Which only made her laugh harder when the panel bounced back open.

With a growl, Goose secured the hatch, and lifted her around the waist to set her down on the end of the work table.

"You think that's funny?"

"It's a _little_ funny."

Her green eyes danced beneath her straight auburn fringe, and he took her face in her hands and kissed her again until she stopped giggling, and started making soft needy sounds against his mouth.

Goose pulled back reluctantly, and she leaned forward to press one last kiss to his mouth. He felt the curve of her smile against his lips.

"You've got that smile," he observed, feeling smugly pleased with himself.

"What smile?"

He bent his head down to her ear. "Like the cat's that got the cream."

He pressed another kiss to her neck, just above the ugly yellowing bruise at her pulse point, and she shivered. He imagined all the different ways, then, that he could make her shudder and gasp and heat flashed through him. But it didn't burn this time—just warmed him.

"I think you mean the _girl_ that's got the _Goose_," she said, her smile widening until it almost blinded him.


End file.
